


In Your Orbit

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake Dating, HEA, James Potter Lived, Major AU, Older Man/Younger Woman, Short Story, Unresolved Sexual Tension, bodyguard trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-11-26 13:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20930804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: A stalker and subsequent attack lands Hermione in the protective custody of Auror James Potter. Between the forced proximity of his home, and discovering a separate side to her best friend's father, she's not certain how this situation ends with her heart unscathed.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).

> It's Monday somewhere, right? Happiest of birthdays to LadyKenz347. You're an irreplaceable part of fandom, and I hope you have the best birthday.
> 
> Pairing: James Potter/Hermione Granger
> 
> Information: Lily died in the first war, saving Harry's life. James survived, and was present as Harry, Hermione, and Ron grew up. The second war still took place, and all the information that's vital to the story will be explained as it goes. James, Remus, and Sirius are all alive. This will either be five or six chapters, and four are written.
> 
> Tags/Warnings: Older Man/Younger Woman, Sexual Content, Some Violence (not graphic), Canon Divergence, HEA.
> 
> Beta read by mcal, one of the best cheerleaders around.

* * *

It started as nothing, a note here, or there. She got those often, though. Hermione had been forced to come to expect vile words stretching across parchment, or the vicious words spat by a Howler of how a _filthy, Mudblood witch with no right to magic was on the fast track to Minister._

She wasn't really on the fast track, but it had been put that way several times by _The Daily Prophet_. Kingsley Shacklebolt said she'll hold the position in ten years, and had been quoted for saying he would personally outfit her for the position. It was a good feeling, Hermione thought, when her friends threw her a massive party combined as her birthday and a promotion with the Ministry to Deputy Department Head.

It was a big deal, she knew. At twenty-two, five years out of Hogwarts, and away from the war, Hermione realised there were wizards looking down their noses at her for holding on by nothing by her own tenacity and stubbornness. There were wizards, and a few witches, that are much older than her that are _still_ Deputy Department Heads, and have never advanced.

So when the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, Hermione didn't stop to ponder it on the way home. Her flat was a short walk from the Apparition point, and she realised she ought to have used the Floo in her office to get home, but it was nothing. A chilly day that she could spend with her scarf blissfully wrapped around her neck and tucked over her chapped lips. It's not so enjoyable that her lip is cracked and snagged on the scarlet material, but Hermione carried on.

There was a footstep behind her, cracking through the ice of a puddle she'd stepped over a second before, and her blood ran cold. Her wand was in her hand in an instant—summoned without saying a word—but when she pivoted to the side and whirled, there was no one there.

Nothing but a breath left hanging in the frosty air to make her believe that someone had been there at all.

* * *

She strengthened her wards, and elected to not tell Harry or Ron. If it got worse, she assured herself, then she'd go to them. Both Aurors, both trigger happy, and overly protective of their third part, Harry and Ron would have whisked her away to their flat in a second before involving the brunt of the DMLE.

Thinking it was something simple enough to scare her, to get her out of the way, Hermione wanted to handle it alone. She was a capable witch, formidable even in her own right, though it was conceited to say. It was probably Davies who had been watching her from the outer office of the Minister, keeping his prejudices to himself when Kingsley was around, but then it still didn't make any sense.

There had been plenty of conspiracies in the Ministry over the course of history. There was the debacle of 1891, where deep rooted ties to powerful families nearly shredded the system entirely, but the long reached effects had never been fully explained, or uncovered. Each to try had mysteriously vanished, but dead with a doubt. Their names were listed on a plaque by the cleaning cupboard for maintenance, nothing but a footnote in history. There was Voldemort, Hermione thought bitterly, so there was no limit to how low one could steep.

But it felt like something else.

Hermione sat behind her desk, staring into the doorway of the Head's office. Rusty was just inside, and she _should_ tell him her worries. How sometimes her wards rippled, jarring her out of a deep sleep. He might tell her that she was just worried however, a little witch who had been frightened.

_He wouldn't. He trusts you explicitly and your judgement._

If it _was_ nothing, though, it would seep through the grapevine, no matter how confidential it was promised to be. There were no secrets to be kept, and jumping to the conclusion that she had a stalker when it was nothing but a _phantom_ it seemed, they would label her.

They always had, but she did what she could to prevent even more from being permanently slapped on her.

_Nothing. It's nothing._

* * *

Constantly looking over her shoulder was exhausting, but after the fall of Voldemort, Hermione had never completely stopped. A therapist in the year after the war informed her of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and formerly diagnosed her. Like Harry, Ron, or she supposed any Auror, she knew the exits when she walked into a room.

The fastest ways to get out.

Her head was going to explode from trying to prepare for anything and everything. When Ron asked her why she stopped going for walks along the Thames—he knew how she liked the view, how she romanticised the bridge despite all of the tourists—she swallowed her lunch and murmured that her knee had been aching.

He offered to bring her a pain potion from the stockroom for Aurors if she needed it, and she said she'd stop by an apothecary.

When Ron learned that she didn't go to an apothecary during a normal conversation where he asked about her knee, he started to eye her carefully until it came to a head weeks later. "Does your knee still hurt?" He asked, setting a potion on her desk.

Hermione looked up, her lie already prepared and at the tip of her tongue, but something about Ron tipped her off. "It was never hurting."

He nodded, and she was surprised when his nostrils didn't flare. "I know. You had your annual mandated physical not long ago. I pulled the record, and found there was nothing wrong with you at all, at least not physically."

Her eyes widened, and the parchment in her hands slipped away, floating to her desk. "That's a serious violation of ethics, Ron. If you were caught, you could be suspended. Or worse, terminated." The statement reminded her of something she'd said before, but the details were hazy. "Ron?"

He flipped the chair in front of him backward, and straddled it while folding his arms across the top. "You lied to me, and you never lie. Not without a good reason."

Only it _wasn't _a good reason, and she bloody well knew it. "You're going to lose your head."

"Do you think I'll be able to find it?"

Hermione sighed.

"So it's that bad. Come on, 'Mione. Spit it out." He tapped his fingers against the desk, nudging the plaque he'd gifted to her upon her promotion. "Hermione, you're worrying me."

She looked toward Rusty's office. The door was sealed shut, and considering how there was a meeting in place, she knew he wouldn't be out for some time. Brushing hair behind her ears, Hermione opened the middle drawer of her desk. "A few weeks ago," Hermione started nervously, flipping open a muggle legal pad. "I began receiving threatening letters. They all passed through Ministry protocol, and I was allowed to view them. They were… odd."

He arched a brow. "How so?"

"Normally, they're filled with rubbish about blood superiority. These weren't. In fact, they were classified as threats only because they're noting my movements throughout the day."

The colour drained from his face as his fist came down on the desk. "What?"

Gulping, she knew she was in the thick of it now. "It's true. I read them myself, and it catalogued my entire schedule. Um, here it is..." She thrust the parchment out. "It's only a copy since they tested the original for hexes and jinxes. The standard."

Ron nodded, his knee popping up and down as he skimmed the letter. "Lunch with Balfast—that guy is a right prick." Well, she didn't disagree. "Walked to Flourish and Blotts—Hermione, this is a written transcript of your conversation with the clerk!'

"I know."

"Did they throw this out? This is dangerous." His eyes flashed a shade darker, and she clasped her hands under the desk. "This is the beginning of a stalker, don't you realise that? Didn't they?"

No, they hadn't. She had expected to have a fight on her hands when she stepped off the lift so the DMLE _wouldn't _blow it out of proportion. But there hadn't been. The Head Auror took her at her word, and dismissed it, leaving it to be filed in the archives where all of the other threats toward Ministry officials were stored.

Clearing her throat, Hermione's voice was weak. "That's not all."

Ron's head snapped up, and the parchment crinkled in his grip. "What is it?"

"I think… it's possible I was followed home two weeks ago. I thought it was nothing, someone walking behind me without a sense of social boundaries, but then they were inches away from my back. I drew my wand, and they were gone. It didn't sound like Apparition, but that's all I know. Sometimes I sense my wards… flickering. That's the best way to describe it."

"And you never thought to file a report? Or to come to me? Harry? You're so much smarter than this." He said it gently, but his reassuring smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Why didn't you come to us?"

Since he was unlikely to let it go, there wasn't an option. "If this was nothing, as I thought it was, they would portray me as a scared, paranoid witch. Don't you remember when Skeeter saw me leaving my therapist's office? I worried it would affect my future aims."

He balled the paper up in his fist. "Better a scared witch than a dead witch."

The words knocked into her, rattling in her head as she stared at him. Ron was never serious. Ron with his soft blue eyes that lit up in amusement, and his sense of humor that only meshed with hers half of the time. Yet here he was, staring at her with a dark look that she'd only ever seen when there had been a robbery at the shop.

"I'm sorry."

Coming round her desk, his hip bumping into the edge, he held his hand out to her. "It's alright. Come with me and I'll help you file a report. Only the best for you, 'Mione. And," he raised a hand as she scribbled a memo that zipped under her boss's door. "I don't want to hear a single complaint about _using resources. _They're yours to use, just as they would be for any other employee working here."

* * *

Ron sat across from her, and by the time she was halfway through her written statement, Harry barged into the room. His hair was windblown, and not in a good way, but she paid the most attention to how he glared at her. "Hermione…" He began, adjusting his uniform.

"Did you run all of the way here?" Ron snorted, covering his mouth. "Have a seat. Try not to scold Hermione. She's shaken up enough, and I think I've done enough when it comes to nagging her." it was a lie, and Hermione caught his wink from across the table. He hadn't nagged her at all through the walk to the lift, nor through the narrow, bleak corridors leading to the interrogation rooms.

Luckily, this wasn't an interrogation.

"Yes," Harry growled, ripping his robes from around his shoulders. "I _did _run all of the way here. I got your Patronus while brushing my teeth."

Hermione smirked while looking up from the table. "You've got toothpaste right here." She pointed to the side of his mouth.

Harry grumbled and stormed from the room.

"There wasn't any toothpaste." Ron grinned.

As she finished the statement, laying her quill down, she held her wand to the surface. Magic rippled across the surface, flashing through hues of blue and green before seeping into the parchment. The door closed quietly behind Harry and he crossed the room. "Done?"

She and Ron nodded. "What happens now?"

Harry rested his cheek on his knuckles. "I think you should stay with us for awhile. If you think you're wards are being tampered with while you're inside, then you already know it's not safe."

"I don't know that." Hermione argued. "That could be my paranoia. If you find they've been tampered with, I'll stay. If they're not, then I'm going to continue living at home."

Neither of them liked it. "Fine." Ron conceded. "We can't force you to relocate unless we've proven you're in immediate danger. There are some things we'll need your cooperation with though."

Hermione glared. "You wouldn't be enjoying the chance to tell me what to do, would you?"

"Of course not. I'm nothing if not a professional." Ron drawled.

Harry's foot nudged hers under the table.

She burst into laughter. "What are your demands?"

Rolling his eyes, Ron laid parchment in front of her, and she recognised the DMLE letterhead at the top. "Please Floo directly home via the one in your office. If you need to go anywhere, you're to have an Auror escort you. Harry and I will be available at most times. If at any time you feel that you are in immediate danger, please activate this." He laid a stone on the table, a small one that fit in the center of her palm. "If activated, every Auror available is going to swarm the location."

Hermione dropped it. "That is ridiculous."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. "If you don't take it, Hermione, there will be two Aurors on you at all times. I realise you think this is going overboard—"

"It _is._"

He clicked his tongue. "I don't give a shite. You're a symbol for a lot of things, and whoever is following you may be after that, or just you in general. Either way, the DMLE is electing to not take any risks."

Harry reached across the table to wrap her hand in his. "What good is being able to protect people if we can't protect the ones we care about most?"

Defeated, Hermione closed her hand around the stone. "You win then."

* * *

When her wards were checked by an independent third party, neither Harry or Ron could deny that they were fine. They insisted on better security, and informed her that the DMLE took the security of employees seriously, so they would pay the bill. When she reared back, already poised for an argument, they told her if she paid the bill that she would be reimbursed with her biweekly wages.

It was quiet that week, no ripples in her wards. Even if she was still unsure whether she'd imagined them or not, Hermione felt that much better to fall asleep without wondering if she would wake to someone hovering over her. It was the image, concocted by swirling fears colliding in her mind, that had seen her to sleep for weeks until involving the proper channels.

It still sent her off into a dreamless sleep each night, and there was nothing to help that.

Ron checked up on her more than Harry did. While they had amicably decided early on—incredibly early, within a few days of the smoke settling over Hogwarts—that they weren't interested in exploring what it could be, Ron had steadfastly remained her closest friend. It was good, counting on him, easily looping either of her arms through Ron and Harry's while they ordered rounds at the Leaky.

However, it also meant that he was absurdly protective. He checked the wards during his daily patrols, or on his lunch break if there was no time to sneak away. _His worry is justified. You're being stalked._

The thought would enter her mind without warning, and that morning, Hermione mistakenly knocked over a jar of ink as air rushed from her lungs. Everything was upside down, and as much as she wished it wasn't happening, there was little to do about it. She considered seeking out either man to ask questions about the status of the investigation.

Except Ron was meeting Susan Bones for lunch, and Harry had been sent on a mission in Surrey with his father. Hermione dwelled on that for a moment, biting her lip. She'd heard of the mission, a supposed scouting mission that could quickly snowball into something else. There had been sightings of Amycus and Alecto Carrow.

The sightings could be wrong.

But if they were correct, Hermione realised that James had been assigned with Harry not only for his experience, but for the fact that out of all the Aurors, James Potter was firmly in the slot of number one when it came to catching Death Eaters and sympathisers.

Still, Hermione hoped it would be nothing. That if the sibling pair were going to be caught, as they should have been years ago, it would go without problem. WIthout injuries.

_Without casualties._

As her day drew to a close, Hermione packed files into her satchel. She would review them with dinner, hopefully with a glass of red wine. Shouldering her bag, Hermione took one look at the Floo. She wasn't going directly home since she needed to stop by Flourish and Blotts to pick up an order. Drawing her lip between her teeth, Hermione decided she would find Ron and ask him to go with her. At least that way she would feel comfortable, and she also wouldn't be on the receiving end of an almost comical scolding. _How the tables have turned._

Hurrying to the lift and shuffling to the right of Terry Boot, Hermione counted the floors they descended. She was the first out, eager to escape the enclosed space. As she looked around the atrium, her chest deflated. Ron had been found, but he was deep in a conversation with Susan, and there was a wide smile stretching his lips.

Hermione couldn't interrupt them, not as he looked so at ease when he had been terribly nervous about the 'relationship' as it wasn't quite a relationship yet. With her heels clicking against the tile, Hermione exited the Ministry before he could happen to see her.

* * *

The walk from the Ministry into Diagon Alley was short, but enjoyable. Despite the air that bit her cheeks, Hermione wrapped her wool coat tightly around her, and delighted in the warming charm cast on her tights. In one pocket, her fingers were fisted around her vine wand, twitching and eager to lash out at anyone that dared to touch her.

As she hurried past the entrance to Knockturn Alley, wishing it wasn't so close for another time, the fear of being followed started to fade. Still, she gripped her wand for extra precaution. It wasn't as if anyone was going to attack her in broad daylight, especially out in the open.

It was a mistake that left her with a split second to regret.

A hand shot out from a break in the stone wall leading into the seedier side of Diagon, and Hermione was ripped to the side by her collar. "Get off me." Hermione hissed, moving to pull her wand, to hex her attacker, to curse—something, _anything._

"Don't turn around," he growled. Cruel fingers knotted in her hair before slamming her head forward, busting her lip while pain exploded across the bridge of her nose, and her knees crashed to the cobblestone.

* * *

There were voices, two that she could tell apart, and they belong to her best friends. The air reeked of antiseptic, which she had never understood. Whether it was a muggle or magical hospital, the smell was inescapable. She tried to say something, but her throat was dry, and her voice raw.

As if she'd been screaming, but she couldn't remember screaming.

"She's waking up." Fingers slid through hers, warm and squeezing while she opened her eyes. "Hey, sunshine." Harry's smile was weak. "Anything you need?"

"Water." Hermione managed in a ragged voice while pushing herself up against the pillows. "How long have I been here?"

There were bags under Ron's eyes, and she didn't think she would like the answer. "Just the night. Harry and James got back in after midnight. He came straight here."

She nodded, taking the glass Harry held out for her in both of her hands. "I was going to Flourish and Blotts."

Ron didn't snap at her like she expected him to. Rarely did he lose his temper anymore. The correct amount of potions and the therapist that Aurors regularly met with had done wonders for that. "I know you were." Disappointment coloured his tone, or it may have been plain fear.

She stared at her feet as she wiggled them below the itchy sheet. "I came to ask you to go with me. You and Susan were together in the atrium, so I decided not to bother you. I didn't—I had no idea this would happen."

He sat at the end of the bed. "I know, but you're okay. That's what is most important here. You were found in a small alley leading into Knockturn."

"He left me there?" Hermione drained the glass, but wiped her thumbs across the condensation. "I wonder why that is."

Ron sighed. "We need to ask you if you remember anything before he knocked you out."

Focusing, Hermione tasted the metallic in her mouth, and realised she'd nearly bitten through her lip. _It must have been when he threw me into the wall. _"I didn't see him. He threatened to kill me if I turned around. I didn't look." But she remembered rancid breath crawling across her skin with each word.

Harry's hand was warm on her shoulder. "It's okay. Ron, do you want to tell her, or should I?"

She looked between them, catching Ron waving Harry off. "What is it? Did you catch him after he attacked me? If I get my hands on him—"

"He hasn't been caught," Harry cut her off. "The Ministry is assigning an Auror to protect you at all times. You'll be staying with them until we catch your stalker."

Hermione's voice caught in her throat as confusion washed over her. "What do you mean? It's not one of you?" At the shake of their heads, she asked, "Why not?"

Ron scratched the back of his neck. "They told us it's a conflict of interest, but it's also because they want a better Auror with you."

"But you're both…" Hermione trailed off. "Okay. Do you know who it is then at least?" When they responded that they didn't, Hermione's immediate thought was that she hoped it wasn't anyone she'd gone to Hogwarts with.

* * *

Hermione was discharged the next morning into the care of her friends, who didn't bother with the _I told you so_ she was still expecting. They were due the meet the Auror that had been assigned to her at her flat while she packed anything she would need for the foreseeable future.

Harry sat at the foot of her bed, absently biting his nails while she shoved everything into a suitcase.

"I just can't believe they didn't bother to tell even one of you who I'd be with. What if it's someone I despise?" Hermione muttered, and then said, "Honestly, not liking someone is the least of my worries. But Evans would be more likely to murder me in my sleep than throw himself in front of me."

Ron agreed.

Clothes flew into her luggage, screwing her eyes shut as tears threatened to fall. She would not cry, not again. "Are you sure it's really a threat?" Hermione knew the answer to her question.

Harry sucked in a breath, the bed sipping below him as he helped her pack. Carefully folding her blouses, he drew his lower lip between his teeth. "'Mione,"

Ron cut him off, his voice harsher than she'd heard since they day she had come clean to him. "You were almost killed. Do you have any idea what it was like to find you—you were sprawled across the street like you were broken."

Dread coiled in her stomach as his voice wavered. "I just—yes, I understand."

Ron places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I'm sorry, I really am."

Her bedroom door creaked open, long—drawn out like someone meant for it to be.

"Dad?" Harry's voice was incredulous.

James Potter was the source of most of her childhood embarrassment. From an entirely inappropriate crush that spanned from the onset of puberty to well—there was no definitive end since her gaze still wandered to him. And it wasn't the time, because what she thought was happening was absolutely _not happening._

James cleared his throat, leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom while kicking one leg over the other. His boot met the floor with a heavy thud. "Are your bringing your entire home to mine?" His voice was a constant raspy drawl, and fuck her if it was fair. "I have the room, but—"

Something was blocking her throat and she managed to squeak, "You're the Auror they're putting me with?"

"Oh, don't look so put out, love. It'll be fun, except for the stalker bit." His eyes dropped to her bed, and to the black knickers that were half out of her suitcase.

Black. Lacy. Embarrassing.

Hermione ripped the bag shut. She swallowed several times until her throat was so dry that she couldn't. "Oh, Merlin," she muttered under her breath.

"Dad, a word?" Harry hissed, crossing the room in two long strides.

James looked bored as he tapped his fingers against his chin, against the five o'clock shadow he had. "Sure, but just the one." His smile barely slipped as Harry yanked him into the hallway and the door swung shut.

Hermione looked at Ron, her eyes wide in shock. "_No._"

He snorted. "You still have a crush on him, don't you?" Of course he remembered, and of course he'd chosen then to bring it up, when James was on the other side of her bedroom door. When Ron wasn't very well known for his tactfulness or his inside voice.

She shook her head.

Ron smirked. "You're such a shite liar."

* * *


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am overwhelmed and humbled by how this story has been received. I'm not sure I've ever had a first chapter be received this well, and I am in awe of the love you've chosen to give me. I hope this next chapter is enjoyable, and I also hope the muse for the fifth chapter will come to me soon.
> 
> Thank you to mcal for beta reading this, and Frumpologist for reading and always assuring me of my skill. ("skill," MrsRen scoffs)

* * *

When Hermione left her bedroom, fidgeting with the shrunken suitcase in her pocket, Harry was red in the face. His father leaned against the wall, his back to Hermione, but she saw how his shoulders stiffened.

"Keep her safe." Harry hissed pointedly, his eyes lifting and landing on Hermione. "You're done?"

She nodded. "As ready as I'm going to be. Is everything okay?" Even though Harry wasn't going to tell that it wasn't alright, and it clearly wasn't, she asked anyway. Hermione came to stand beside James, keeping a respectable distance between the two of them while she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The corridor seemed much smaller than normal as Ron shuffled behind her, and tension clouded the air.

James arched an eyebrow when she peered up at him. "Yes, is everything alright, Harry?"

Not knowing why Harry gritted his teeth when the question slipped out of his father's mouth, Hermione could only look between the two men. "It's fine. I just don't understand why _you_ were put with Hermione when I, or Ron—"

Growing up, Hermione could count only a few times that James had raised his voice. "Stop right there," he snapped, and there was a tick in his jaw. "It's been explained to you more than once. It's a conflict of interest."

Which made sense, Hermione thought. She was too close to her boys, and they were so likely to think with their anger first rather than their brains if she were—her thought was cut short as James said exactly that.

"You're rash, and have poor decision making when it comes to those you care for most." James' voice was rough, and he stared at Harry, daring him to argue. "Nothing will happen to Hermione. For the record, I pity the wizard if he tries again. He got the drop on her yesterday, but that won't happen again, will it, love?"

She'd imagined that his eyes softened when his gaze turned on her. Hermione bristled at his question, and her eyes darkened. "No, he won't."

Her dark-haired friend sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He must have known the argument was useless, and it wasn't going to change anything. She wouldn't be placed with him no matter what he said because, well, Hermione didn't want to say that James Potter was the better Auror, but there was something to be said about his experience, wasn't there?

James grabbed her wrist, and saluted his son before Apparating them without warning. The pads of his fingers were warm, and they skimmed the inside of her wrist, nails catching on her bracelet as they landed. The manor had been rearranged since the last time she'd visited for Sirius' birthday. "You can make yourself at home. Might as well since you'll be here for a while, right?"

Focusing on the new photographs that were organised along the mantle, as if it were more interesting than the man behind her, Hermione nodded. There was a glum twist of her lips while she picked up a photo she'd never seen before. "This is Harry?" She asked. Running her fingers across the glass separating her from the glossy surface, she noted a little boy on a broom.

"No," he replied, moving beside her. "It's me. My father bought me a broom for my fifth birthday, a training broom, and Mum hated it."

That explained why the photo was in black and white rather than in colour.

"It's cute." Setting it back in its place, Hermione asked quietly, "Will I still be able to go to work, or am I forced to stay here?"

Pity flashed across his face. Sighing, James looked conflicted. "That decision was left to me."

_Oh._

Adjusting his sleeves, rolling them halfway, and exposing his biceps, and also the veins that stood out from his tanned skin, he told her to look at him. "We can try it, _but_," James rushed when she grinned, "I'm absolutely serious, Hermione. If you're not in the house, you're with me. I'm going to be in your office, your meetings, and I'll follow you to the loo."

Her nose twitched and she looked at him in horror.

"Alright, I'm kidding about the last part, but I will be outside the loo. If there are any problems, then we'll have no choice but to stay here."

That was fair. Hermione nodded. "I understand then. Thank you. I appreciate that so much." She looked at her feet, and sighed. Everything was such a mess, but at least she would still be able to distract herself with work for the majority of the day.

He squeezed her shoulder. "You won't have to stay here long. We'll catch the bastard stalking you and you'll be back home in no time. You'll see."

But things were never that easy.

* * *

A weekend separated her from work. Hermione endeavored to stay to herself while in James' home, and he didn't seek her out. Not that he was bad company, but seeing him roll up his sleeves, and speak with authority had made her remember a childish infatuation that she thought she'd grown out of.

Perhaps not though, she realised.

There were photographs in the library, and her gaze lingered on him in each. Moments frozen in time where James was smiling wildly as he slung his arms around Remus and Sirius while still in Hogwarts. Unsurprisingly, one of their group was missing, magically removed from the photos she stared at.

Peter Pettigrew was dead, and had been since the awful night they had been dragged to Malfoy Manor. The memory of a silver hand choking him to death for his traitorous thoughts were clear, but it had come too late. Betrayal had been the only trait Pettigrew had kept for years.

She remembered the moment James learned of his former friend's death. Standing between Sirius and Remus, held up by both of them from a nasty curse shot during the Battle of Hogwarts, he had looked Hermione in the eye. "_Did he suffer?" _When she said that he had, he spat blood on the ground, and uttered that he wished he'd been able to do it himself.

There was a large chair positioned in front of a large bay window. It was the same spot she'd spent much of her time over summers away from Hogwarts, and everyday during the after Obliviating her parents. It's bitter to look at it, to remember all of the conversations that had been held in Potter Manor, and she almost didn't sit there.

It was as comfy as she remembered, the cushion dipping below her as she curled up. Hermione opened a novel she'd brought with her, and rested her cheek in her palm as she flipped open the cover.

It wasn't the book she'd meant to bring. While she wasn't ashamed of the explicit books she owned, Hermione had glamoured the covers. Ron was awfully nosy, and he enjoyed teasing her until her cheeks matched his hair. Instead of a thriller, she'd brought an erotic romance that comically weaved a tale of a young woman who was placed in the protection of an ex-flame.

Deciding that she still need something to do, or she would wander the corridors until sleep overtook her, Hermione skimmed. Not fully reading as her cheeks warmed, but the text introduced unwanted thoughts into her mind.

—_Mouths clashing together before he pressed her to the mattress—_

—_Legs tangling into the sheets and her fingers clutching satin sheets as he pumped into her, his voice a low rasp next to her ear—_

—"_Please,"—_

Hermione made it halfway through the thin novel before her eyes began to close. Not having the presence of mind to think, Hermione left the book open and resting face down on the armrest before falling asleep completely.

* * *

The sunlight and warmth was gone when the door creaked open, rousing her from a deep sleep. Glancing around the library, Hermione sat up to see the moon outside the window, shining soft light into the room.

"I didn't want to bother you, but I thought you would be hungry." James smiled as he neared her, and he sat on the coffee table in front of her. "Were you asleep?"

She nodded. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. Reading made me tired." Hermione said.

James had changed since she'd seen him earlier in the day. Gone was his Auror uniform—which fit him quite well—and he wore dark jeans, and a Twisted Sisters shirt. "Must have been a pretty boring book." He laughed, and reached forward.

She tried to stop him from picking up the book, and flipping it over. "I, um..."

His eyes shot open, and his mouth fell open. "This _definitely _didn't come from my family library."

Eight words and she wanted to leave.

Immediately.

"I thought it was a different book." It was a weak explanation, and it didn't lessen her embarrassment any.

James turned the page, eyes darting across the page, and she was _horrified. _He smacked her hands away as she tried to snatch it. "Quit that. I'm reading. You're right, this definitely is not a book about," he turned it over, "Pride and Prejudice."

She was silent.

"I'm surprised you glamoured a smut novel as a classic."

_He's judging me. I'll stun him, and Obliviate him, so no one will ever—_

"Ron likes to find them so he can tease me. He hates that book, and the television series." She shot back.

"Well, Hayden isn't Mr Darcy." James drawled, resting his elbows on his knees. "Don't look at me that way. Lily liked this book, and I read it in an attempt to win he over in," He broke off, pondering the thought. "I don't remember. Maybe it was our fourth year. Thought it was a load of rubbish until the end."

He dropped her name easily, and it didn't jar her. Once upon a time as a young child, Hermione flinched when she heard the name. Harry told her how Lily had died to protect him, and for a long time, she saw James flinch when he talked about her.

He didn't flinch, and maybe he hadn't in a long time, but it had been so long since those years that Hermione wondered when it had stopped.

"Did she like you after that?" Hermione asked.

He snorted. "Bollocks, no. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I ever used a line from this book—well, the actual book and not _this_—that she would hex me. Lily was vicious on the other side of a wand."

Well, everyone knew that. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," he said lowly. "It's storytime, Hermione."

Stiffening, Hermione watching him mouth the words, and then take a deep breath. _Oh, sweet Merlin, no._

James cleared his throat. "Running his hands over her curves, and watching her eyes flutter shut as he skimmed the sides of her breasts, Hayden slid down her body." As she reached for her wand, he waved his hand and it flew across the short space into his hand.

There was no chance for her to silence him, as he would deflect it, she was sure of that.

"She whimpered as he parted her thighs, and lowered his mouth to her cunt, his tongue moving against her—" Even worse, his raspy voice wasn't helping her at all when she wanted to listen to it, and that was _ridiculous._

Desperate, and mortified, Hermione kicked the book out of his hands. It sailed across the room, landing hard and the spine was surely broken.

He roared with laughter while she retrieved her wand, and glared at him. "Dinner is ready if you'd like to—"

She grabbed the book on her way out and let the door shut firmly behind her.

* * *

On Monday, James was true to his word. They Apparated directly into the atrium together, and while he didn't need to hold onto her, he insisted on looping his arm through hers. _Just in case. _He suspected the worst could happen, and that was her being attacked while inside of the Ministry.

She didn't believe that could happen, but Hermione hadn't believed she would be attacked at all.

James stood a foot taller than her, and he walked at her side in the corridors. He'd already told that she was to stay within arms reach, and quite frankly, Hermione thought it was ridiculous. In the middle of the Ministry, a confined corridor, or at worst the lift, anyone who even moved suddenly had James stepping in front of her.

It drew unwanted attention.

Shuffling papers while hurrying toward the DMLE, James strolled leisurely beside her with his hands tucked into his pockets. "Could you pick up the pace please?" Hermione said over her shoulder, and she saw James had scooted closer to her, almost stepping on her heels to stay close. "I need to get these to Ron."

He obliged. "Do you always move this fast?"

She didn't look up from pressing her wand to the parchment on the signature line. "Excuse me?"

"You walk fast." James said, slower this time, and it grated her nerves. "Are you always like this?"

"Are you asking if I'm always working my hardest?" She snapped, harsher than she intended, and by the time Hermione thought of it, he'd tensed. "I'm sorry. Yes, I'm always like this, but I'm not usually so rude. Forgive me?"

His smile when he nodded was heartstopping. "Yeah, it's fine."

Though James didn't ask, Hermione volunteered the information anyway, despite it being oversharing. As they neared the lift, she made sure they were alone before she said anything. "The one time I tried not working quickly, I was accused by my boss of not taking the job seriously enough. It was before my promotion, and it almost cost me the position. So, I don't slow down anymore. That's what my time outside of my career is for."

The expression on his face was unreadable. "That's complete shite. Everyone knows you're one of the best employees the Ministry has."

The lift shook and creaked as it climbed. Hermione clutched her paperwork tightly in her hand. "It is shite, but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Ron and Harry threatened to burn down departments because of what I go through to earn respect."

"They _what_?" James eyes shot open, but it was not surprise that coloured his tone. Awe, perhaps, but mostly angry. "What do you mean what you go through?"

She watched the number climb, and shook her head. "This isn't the time for the conversation. Our floor is two away and what are you _doing_—"

They stopped with a sudden lurch, and Hermione tripped, unable to catch herself because of her heels, slammed into James' chest. He caught her, steadying her after his free arm slipped away from her waist. He towered over her, his arm stretched across the enclosed space where his hand rested on the emergency stop.

"You're mental!" Hermione gaped. "I can tell you about this later, James." She wasn't sure if it was the first time she'd called him by his first name. Surely it wasn't considering it had been so long since leaving Hogwarts.

"I want you to tell me about it now, please." His voice was tight.

Her papers had flown all over the lift, grossly out of order as well. "I'm a muggleborn, and there are many who are still prejudiced. I'm a woman that preferred to build a career, and work in politics instead of searching for a husband and having kids."

"That's not,"

"Necessary? No, it's not. Not that there's anything wrong with settling down to start a family young. Except it's not what _I_ want, so that means I'm broken, defective, a fucking anomaly in society."

"Hermione—"

"No," she cut him off, her hair falling into her face. "You want to tell me it's not true, which I really appreciate it, but I already know that. Whatever I do, someone is watching. If I slow down, then I'm slacking. If I take my full allotted hour for lunch, then I'm not as ambitious as I claim to be. I'm brushed off at every turn from bureaucrats that don't know their head from their arse who block my legislation."

His eyes were darker than normal, steadily fixed on her, and she thought his eyes dropped to her chest that rose and fell with every breath.

"Last month, I introduced a bill that would cover the cost of Wolfsbane at an incredibly low cost to citizens. It was denied. My department head told me to tweak the wording so it wouldn't be noticed, and he presented it. _It passed._ It should matter that I'm brilliant, or that I want to do something to prevent what happened five years ago from happening ever again, but it doesn't. To them, I'm a figurehead, the girl who lost her parents and if it looks like I'm on their side, then the public is too."

He looked like he was going to cut her off.

"So I don't matter at all until I make them see that I do. And I'm late to show Ron something that if he can show it to the Head Auror, it may help prevent the string of rapes that they've had. If you don't get out of my way, you'll be in St Mungos by the end of the day." She couldn't breathe as his hand fell away from the button and air rushed into her lungs.

She hadn't aired all of her frustration like she was mad. She _hadn't._

"I shouldn't have blown up like that," she whispered.

James summoned the paperwork into his hands, but he didn't hand it to her. "I'm taking this, alright? Trust me. I know the case you're talking about."

"James—"

He put a finger to her lips that fell away before the doors opened and revealed an impatient crowd. "Trust me, Hermione." They stepped out of the lift, and he craned his head backward. "Weasley!" He barked, and she jumped. Ron's head snapped up. "Watch her, I'll be back."

Stunned and rooted to the spot, it took Hermione several moments before she realised James was angrily striding toward the Head Auror's office. "Oh, my God."

"What is he doing?" Ron asked, warily eyeing the man who nearly ran over an intern without a word. "Why is he so angry?"

"I think he's helping me." Hermione's eyes were wide, and she momentarily forgot the tightness in her chest.

* * *

He'd gotten her an official meeting with Head Auror Robards. One that had gone splendidly well, and the older man shook her hand with a smile before asking why she hadn't arranged a meeting sooner. Hermione learned that James had not handed over her paperwork, but left it for her to present.

There was a note. _It's your idea. They're not going to stop you anymore._

And she didn't know what that meant, but she tucked it into her pocket for safekeeping through the meeting. It was accepted without objection. It was the easiest meeting in her entire time with the Ministry, and the man across the desk commented that she shouldn't have to worry about that for much longer. He said it so vaguely, with a smug smile on his face.

She didn't know what that meant.

Hermione sat in the office Ron and Harry shared for over an hour, unsure of where James was. She could have gone back to her own office, but she'd already been instructed to stay where James put her due to security. It wasn't as if her department head would be expecting her with what was going on, so she waited in silence.

Inter-office gossip told her everything she needed to know when she followed Ron to the cafeteria, as James was still nowhere to be found. It was odd, considering how he'd wanted her with him at all times.

"Hermione, did you hear?" Padma Patil asked her, coming to stand in front of her. There was a glass of water in her hands, and the water sloshed from side to side as Padma shook. "You haven't heard about Auror Potter then?"

"Harry?" She looked at Ron. "Is he alright?"

Padma shook her head. "Not Harry. His father. James stormed into the Wizengamot chambers earlier this morning, and from what I heard, he demanded the records of those who have discriminated against you."

The colour must have drained from her face. Her lips parted and a weak breath left her. "What? Why?"

"I was in the next room, organising transcripts. He threatened every member with a seat that's disrespected you with a full investigation."

Ron's shoulder bumped against hers, and she looked at him in shock. "Investigations into what?" Ron asked.

Padma took a long drink and shook her head. "They silenced the room. All I know is that they were scared when he left. Whatever he said worked."

Hermione stepped backward, her head whirring as thoughts rushed through her head. "I need to go. I need to find James and see what this is all about." She hurried from the cafeteria, heading toward the lift that would lead her into the lowest level of the Ministry.

As she came around a corner, Hermione slammed into him. Catching herself, and righting her blouse, she stared at him. "You—"

"Where is Ron?"

"I..." Hermione sucked in a breath. "I left him somewhere back...there." She pointed behind her with a sheepish smile. "I wanted to find you."

James folded his arms across his chest, nodding with lifted eyebrows. "Right. Well, have you eaten lunch already?"

He never meant to tell her, Hermione realised. Somehow, that endeared his actions even more. "You threatened several members of the Wizengamot."

Merlin help her, he looked _guilty. _"Right," James scratched the back of his neck. "I admit that I got carried away, and I know you would have liked to handle it on your own most likely."

"I'm not mad." Hermione admitted. "That's just the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me is all. I was surprised when I heard."

Nodding, James met her eyes and didn't look away when he spoke. "That's a shame then if it's the nicest thing."

She laughed. "I shrieked at you like an absolute banshee for a solid three minutes, and then threatened you. But you…"

He kicked the ground with the toe of his boot. "They treat you like shite because they're afraid of you, and do you know what?"

Hermione lifted her head.

"They bloody well should be."

Somehow, even under the layer of implied violence, it was sweet.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was enjoyable. Please leave a comment if you feel comfortable doing so, and let me know what you thought. Until next week!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New week, new update. Thank you for all the attention. I really, really never expected this to garner so much attention, and I'm still so humbled by it all. And thanks to the anon on tumblr who asked me if I was updating today! I had almost forgotten, honestly. Notes at the bottom.
> 
> Biggest thanks to mcal for beta reading and Frumpologist for being an eternal cheerleader.

* * *

James' actions made for the easiest week of her life, and she caught him clenching his jaw so hard it might break when she mentioned how it had changed. Though she knew that nothing had truly changed at the root of the problem, which was old wizards who disliked her for leading change, no one bothered her. There were no rude remarks, and it was the most productive week of her life.

However, naturally with her luck, it had to come tumbling down.

"We'll be stuck inside all weekend most likely," James explained, standing behind her and browsing the shelves of her office. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to have delivered? You can't go to Flourish and Blotts yourself, but..."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and didn't reply. Honestly, she wished he would just sit down. He radiated heat, and he insisted on standing close. _It's a safety precaution,_ he said. If she didn't know it was her wishful, far-fetched thinking, Hermione would have thought he wanted to stand so close to her that his arm brushed her, or so that his hip would bump against hers.

"No, I'll be fine. I don't want to inconvenience anyone by making them run errands for me." Already knowing what he was going to say, Hermione ripped the large parcel on her desk open in order to cut him off.

The explosion vibrated her office, and shattered the windows behind them. James caught her mid stumble, not allowing her the chance to stand as he carried her into the corridor. Employees flooded the small space, some appearing sympathetic, but most of them were nosy.

As she turned to look at her office, she found it absolutely eviscerated.

James hadn't let her go, his arm still solidly fixed in place around her waist.

She didn't ask him to let go.

* * *

Aurors declared the package had been a bomb with magic woven through steel parts. Made to create a heavy explosion, Hermione learned the shrapnel should have killed her. Should have cut into her, and where she'd been standing before James ripped her out of the way, her aorta would have been severed.

They didn't tell her that part. Hermione had pieced it together herself. Placing her memory of the event in a pensieve that James gave her permission to use, she saw James had been hit as a result of grabbing her. What would have pierced her neck, landed in his chest, and the protective charms of his uniform had prevented it from lodging in his heart.

It made her violently sick. If James heard her retching, he didn't say anything.

He'd cast a shield around her with an impressive response time, and she wondered guiltily if Harry or Ron could have reacted as quickly.

Her office, now repaired, would sit empty until whoever had attacked her—they believed it to be the same person of course—was in custody. Thankful for a safe place to stay, Hermione didn't hate Potter Manor. The estate was large, and there was a garden just outside her window tended to by house elves. Paid. She'd already asked, but politely.

Going outside wasn't an option. Maybe James was confident in his wards, but he wasn't willing to risk the chance. Telling her they could go together, Hermione had told him no. Confined to house arrest, there was nothing to do but think.

There was someone out there in the world hunting her. What were his reasons? Hermione sat at a table in the library, digging through documents delivered via Ministry owl. Out of all the threats ever lodged against Hermione, the serious ones at least, nothing fit the current events. Irritated as she was to admit it, this man was intelligent enough to deliver a bomb to the Ministry. Packages were scanned, vetted through diagnostic spells, and no alarms had been raised.

He found her after breakfast, which had been a quiet moment in the day. She hadn't felt like talking, for various reasons, and James hadn't questioned her. Arching a brow at the sight of her buried in documents that were no help at all, he offered to help. "I've already read all of these. I don't think there is anything to find, but it can't hurt."

She motioned to the seat across from her. Crossing her legs in the chair, Hermione adjusted her jumper.

"What's on your mind?"

"This is my favorite season," she muttered, skimming another threat. This one detailed a grisly scene of decapitation and sending her body parts through the post. "For Merlin's sake, there are some fucked up people out there."

He snorted, spewing his tea to the side. "I'm sorry, that's not funny."

Hermione slapped the parchment down in front of him. "This person apparently wants to chop my head off. What the fuck?" She grabbed another, pushing it toward him. "This one wants to and I quote _bleed me dry to prove once and for all that I'm filthy."_

James gripped the edge of the table, and stared back at her. "They're not supposed to show you these." He sighed. "How did you get these, Hermione?"

No, she wasn't meant to have them. They were classified, concealed by the Ministry because of her reaction.

He'd really believed she only had the tamer threats until he sat down. "Hermione," James urged gently.

"I spoke with the clerk that oversees the filing of records in the DMLE this morning. I told her if she didn't send me everything that I would come there myself, and I would take them. I may or may not have said some colourful things to get the point across." Hermione sighed. "This arrived right after breakfast."

He nodded. "There's a reason you're not meant to read these, love." James tapped his finger against the table and summoned the papers to him, all neatly stacked. "I want to catch him even more than you do, but I promise that every single threat here has already been checked multiple times. I've read them all, so please trust me when I say you shouldn't." He took her hand, swiping his thumb across her knuckle.

"What have they done to investigate these threats?"

"Most of them we were able to track down, and that's all I can say." The paperwork vanished from in front of him as he was mid-sentence. "You said it's your favourite season?"

"I like winter." Hermione replied. "Are you sure that none of those are—"

James smiled sadly. "I'm sure, Hermione." As she digested that, he continued. "Come to the ballroom in a half hour." He stood, pushing away from the table. "Just trust me."

As he left her, Hermione stared at the table in frustration. She imagined this was how most of her days would go, full of anger.

And James wasn't making it easy to avoid him either.

* * *

As far as she knew, the ballroom hadn't been used in several years. The last time she'd been inside it had been at the first anniversary of the final battle, and it had been a gathering for close friends, family, and family that wasn't blood, but nonetheless. Before that, she doubted it had been used since possibly James and Lily's wedding.

Making her way through the corridors, dragging her fingers along the wall and allowing her nails to scrape against the imperfections, Hermione wondered what James had done.

A blast of cold air hit her in the face as she opened the door. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. It didn't even look like a room anymore, but a landscape blanketed by layers of snow. Stretching her fingers out, they met the chilled surface of a light post, and the base was covered by snow. It looked exactly like the park in winter outside the Ministry she frequented.

"What did you do?" Hermione's voice was thick as the door closed behind her with a soft click. "James?"

He neared her, wrapping a scarf tightly around his face. "You'll catch a cold."

She laughed, a genuine smile curving her lips for the first time in days. "Well, you didn't tell me that you were bringing winter to _me._"

His cheeks were red, and she wondered if it was from the biting cold he'd created. "It's meant to be a surprise."

Transfiguring her clothes, Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "How did you do this? I've never seen anything like it."

His grin was slightly smug as he slid his hands into his coat pockets. "Aurors are trained for all sorts of scenarios, and there's a room where the landscape changes to present new challenges."

"I know that." Hermione replied. "What I don't understand is how you did this. It's," she scooped up a handful of snow. "It feels real."

He nodded. "Still a simulation, but gives all of the effects. I've learned the charms they cast on the room over the years." James offered.

Her head was spinning.

"Fancy a walk?" He asked, holding out his arm.

Hermione glanced down at the snow in her bare hands before she looked back at James. "Not particularly." She smashed the snow into his face and sprinted away from his roaring laugh.

James chased her, and air rushed from her lungs as multiple snowballs nailed her in the back. "Get back here and fight me, you coward!"

She ducked behind a bank of snow. She was going to lose miserably without a doubt, but it was the most fun Hermione has had in weeks. Managing to hit him with another, Hermione was struck by an idea. James was much faster than her—and quickly nearing her even though she ran again—but she was a witch, wasn't she?

Skidding to a stop, snow going everywhere, Hermione pulled her wand.

"Don't you dare!" He shouted just before he was buried by a barrage of snowballs. His hand shot out of the snow, a summoned white flag in his hand even though he could have won, and she dug him out of the snow.

Kneeling in front of him, Hermione froze when he wiped snow from her mouth, his thumb lingering at the corner of her mouth. Watching him with her breath caught in her throat, his gaze dropped to his thumb still at the corner of her lips, and traced them again. "James?"

This close to him, she could see that while his eyes were a dark brown, there were spots that reminded her of gold. He had laugh lines, a testament to how he lived his life. Surprisingly, there weren't lines from the stress of raising—

Harry.

This was Harry's father, and he was leaning toward her. Hermione thought it could be a terrible idea, but the want to know what it was like once, even if it never happened again, caused her eyes to flutter shut.

He cupped the back of her head, fingers curling in her hair.

"Dad! Hermione!"

Hermione sprung away from him at the sound of Harry's voice, and she stared at him, her breathing shallow. He opened his mouth to say something, but she didn't want to hear how it would have been a disastrous idea, that they had only gotten carried away. She bloody well knew that. "I—" Her voice cracked. "I have to go."

* * *

_Harry couldn't know_, Hermione repeatedly told herself as he left the room with James. After explaining why she was covered in melting snow when it hadn't even snowed, Harry had taken a long, scrutinizing look at her before turning a glare on his father. "A word?" Harry asked.

It left Hermione alone, her mind screaming at her for what had almost happened.

_If only Harry hadn't called out. _No, that would have been worse. She could only imagine the terrible reaction that would have happened if he hadn't called out, if he had walked in on her snogging James. There was little doubt she would have happily crawled into the man's lap.

_Fine, what if Harry hadn't come at all? _Would she still be locked in a winter wonderland created all for her while tangling herself with a man she found herself fantasising about even now? _Especially now_.

When James came into the room again, he looked angry, and she wondered if it was directed toward her. "I need to go to the Ministry. Harry is going to stay with you."

She nodded, unwilling to stay anything for fear her voice would break. James vanished on the spot with a crack and she didn't look at Harry.

"Are you okay?"

Not at all.

Hermione lied. "Yeah, I'm okay. Do you know what he's doing?"

"Honestly," Harry said darkly. "I don't even think _he _knows what he's doing."

They were talking about two different things, but Hermione didn't let her mind wander to what it could be.

* * *

Hermione spent the day reading until moving to shower. Leaving Harry with that, and not to worry when she spent a long time in the shower, she peeled off her clothes and stepped under the hot stream of water.

All she had been able to think about was James. He'd wanted it, _her_, and they had been interrupted. Perhaps it was for the best. The fact that he was twenty years her senior had never curbed her crush as a teenager, even though it was odd to think about now. Now, she found that liked the age gap even more than she should, but this wasn't any man that was older than her.

It was her best friend's father, and that should have been enough to let it go.

He'd wanted to kiss her.

Did he want anything else?

Her mind wandered to James reading a smut novel, the words leaving his mouth, and a fuzzy warmth coiled in her stomach. Laying her forehead against the shower, she groaned. Being on house arrest was terrible even though it was for her safety. But it was bearable. But now… she wasn't sure what would change when James returned home.

She stepped out of the shower, stepping onto the plush mat. Quickly towel drying her legs first, and then her stomach, she tried not to think about it. It would be best to let it go, to close the memory and want away and not open it again.

Hermione was already unsuccessful.

The door swung open, and she jumped. Scrambling to grab her towel, she froze as James did. Still staring at her, his gaze dropped to her breasts before she quickly covered them. Seconds passed as she waited for him to leave, to slam the door shut behind him, but he didn't. His tongue darted out, sliding along his lower lip.

She wondered if he was about to close the distance between them.

She wondered if she'd mind.

Embarrassment quickly took over, and Hermione snapped, "James!"

"Right," He spluttered. "I just needed to tell you—"

_Is he serious? _"Get the _fuck _out!" The door slammed shut at the end of her sentence. Hermione quickly spelled herself dry except for her hair. With wet tendrils down her back, she made her way downstairs after dressing. She had nothing to ashamed of. _He _was the one who had barged in without knocking, and stared at her.

His cheeks were still read when she found him sitting at the dining room table. "Hermione, I'm-"

"I don't really want to talk about it." Hermione tied her hair up and took the seat across from him. "You wanted to tell me something?"

She'd never seen James fidget. "Is that my quidditch top?" He asked suddenly.

Glancing at her shoulder, Hermione shook her head. "No, it's Harry's. I nicked it from him a long time ago."

"How long ago?"

"I don't know. Maybe the summer before fourth year?" The top was smaller on her now, the fabric stretched across her breasts, but it still fit loosely enough for her liking.

James clicked his tongue. "That's not Harry's."

"What?"

"I said that's not Harry's."

Hermione stared at the number three stretched across her breasts, wishing it would suddenly morph into the number seven, and wished the ground would swallow her whole.

"I vaguely remember it going missing," James said.

_Oh, my fucking God. _Hermione swallowed. "Um, you can have it back if you like,"

"Keep it. It looks far better on you than it ever did on me." He winked, and Hermione was unsure what she'd walked into until his features are suddenly sombre once more. "They haven't found your stalker."

She knew that. It would have been too much to hope for.

"Threatening letters were sent to your office, but it's clear now what he wants from you." He said. "And your flat was vandalised."

Hermione bit her lip, willing herself not to cry because her space had been invaded. "What is it you're trying to tell me?"

James grimaced. "He isn't leaving himself open long enough for us to catch him."

"But you think you have a way to do so?" Hermione asked.

James looked anything but happy, or comfortable for that matter. "I don't agree with it. I think it isn't worth putting you in danger, but I've been ignored." James ran his fingers through his hair. "I've been ordered to inform you that for the foreseeable future, we are to pretend to be dating."

There was a buzzing in her ears. "Pardon?"

"Your stalker is obsessed with you. The most recent letters have revealed that he's angry you're with me. Word travels quickly." James shifted in his chair as he revealed the information. "And he's careful. The theory is to lure him out, and make him slip up by using…"

"Me."

He nodded.

"Okay, I can do that if it's for the best." Hermione's hands were shaking below the table. "When do we start?"

He blinked several times. "You're okay with this?"

"Well, no. It's bound to be awkward, and I'll probably make a fool out of myself," _Merlin, especially after earlier,_ "but if this is how we can catch him…" She shrugged.

"I could request another Auror if you like? Maybe you would feel more comfortable with Harry?"

"Gross, no. Harry is practically my brother. I couldn't even pretend with him." It _wasn't _that she wanted it to be James. "Besides, the stalker believes I'm with you. Switching to another Auror could tip him off. And I don't want another Auror." It was an admission, she knew that, even if that wasn't the only way she meant it.

"Why?"

She swallowed. "I trust you. I don't want anyone else."

Disappointment flashed across his face and she wondered what would have happened if she'd been entirely truthful. "Alright. I'll make dinner reservations for tonight then."

Hermione's nose crinkled.

"What is it?"

"I wouldn't have thought you as the type for dinner reservations, but this isn't a real date, of course." She adds.

The grin he gave her is almost feral. "Prepare yourself then. I'm going to be the best fake boyfriend you ever have."

She wished she hadn't said anything.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's the trope. What did you think? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> Notes: this note is a little premature, but I like to be upfront with news regarding updates. Next week will update on schedule, but I'm unsure about the update after that. My muse has taken a little vacation to work on my nano project next month, and I'm not sure when chapter five will be written since it's the last, or second to last, chapter of this story. Anyway, I'll do my best to wrap that up in a timely fashion, and get it to you! Thank you for reading so, so, so much.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday is here, so here I am thanks to an anon on tumblr who reminded me of the date! I hope you enjoy this fake dating chapter.
> 
> Beta love to mcal. All mistakes are my own.

* * *

Hermione panicked the second she locked herself in the spare bedroom. The night was taking a sudden turn she couldn't have possibly prepared herself for, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. The only fix would be _not_ going through with the plan, a thought Hermione quickly shoved away.

James had offered her a way out, for someone to go with her, but she'd already admitted that she didn't want anyone else. Not Harry, not Ron, not whatever fucking senior Auror they could send. And honestly, if it wasn't James, she had an inkling that she'd be matched with Sirius Black because he was James' partner. And Black, while known for the antics he shared with James in his own youth, knew how to be serious.

There was little doubt that he didn't already know about James, and her, whatever it was.

Sirius would talk to her, and that was too awkward.

_Oh, Merlin. Everything is such a mess._

She sat at the end of the bed, her stomach twisting painfully. While it felt silly to work herself up over this, Hermione wanted to tear her hair out. Fairly certain she was standing on the cusp of something that she couldn't control, and with a man that wasn't meant to be hers in any capacity, Hermione stared out the window.

He was going to kiss her. She'd felt it in the way he'd tugged her closer to him; he wanted it as much as she had.

Facts. She needed to focus on tangible facts. From what she could assume, and she was cautious in doing so, her presence had affected him as well. Whatever this was couldn't be completely one sided, not at all. However, she didn't feel up to asking him what he thought. It was the best way to get a truthful answer, but if it went badly it would make for an awkward night.

"Tomorrow." Hermione muttered, picking at her nails. "I'll talk to him tomorrow." _Before I go mad._

* * *

But Hermione wasn't as Gryffindor as she fancied herself.

She avoided him, and he noticed. For the course of the day, if James walked into a room, or turned down a corridor, Hermione turned the opposite direction.

The look of hurt probably hadn't been imagined, and it made her feel like the coward she was. After turning away from him the third time, James didn't call after her. Hiding in the library while waiting for it to be time, Hermione didn't read any of her books. Instead she picked up a newspaper on the table, and skimmed it.

It was a clipping dated during the war. Bile rose in her throat. Splashed across the cover were photos of she, Harry, and Ron from their sixth year of Hogwarts. It hadn't taken long after they fled, and were considered Undesirables. They were written to be armed and dangerous, to be apprehended on sight.

On the second page, Hermione's eyes narrowed. She remembered everything perfectly well, but it still made her blood boil. There was a listing of Aurors who had been stripped of their ranks, and declared a danger to society.

James' name was the first, printed to the right of a moving picture as he fought against a Death Eater in Diagon. Sirius was at his side, eyes manic while he shot offensive spells that cracked the wall when his opponent moved.

Having locked this up, Hermione slammed the paper down angrily. She didn't think about these things for the most part, save for the anniversary of the end, but it seemed that James was trapped. Was he still trying to find his way out from under the weight of all they had lost? Curious as to what else he'd been looking at, she looked at the box sitting on the table, and tilted her head to the side.

It wasn't hers to look at, but she didn't think James would mind. Slowly opening the box, it gave a low creak. His Order of Merlin lay nestled in the royal blue fabric, shining as if it had never been removed from the box. Running her fingers over the smooth surface, she heard footsteps outside of the library. Hermione snapped the box shut, and quickly stepped away, pretending to browse the shelves as she ran her fingers along the spines.

The footsteps passed, the sound turning into nothing.

She sighed.

* * *

At some point over the day, James had slipped into her bedroom and left a folded note on her bed. _Dress warmly. _There was nothing else to suggest what they were doing. She tucked the note into the latest book she'd brought back from the library, knowing such a small gesture was telling.

Hermione dressed in a dress, selecting a navy blue, that flattered her figure the most. Of course, she'd needed to transfigure it. While packing to stay with James, it hadn't crossed her mind that she would need to look _so_ nice. Not quite appropriate for a day at the office with a lower neckline—though it was tasteful, lingering stares were frustrating and to be avoided—and a waist that flared our around her hips, she had to confront just why she had picked it.

It was easily the prettiest thing in her wardrobe at home, for one.

And she _wanted_ James to look at her. She'd felt the feeling of wanting to impress a date before, but the thought tended to wane over several failed dates. Staring at herself in reflection, twisting to see if the dress flattered her arse, Hermione sighed. "This is a bloody fake date," she grumbled. "I'm acting like—"

James hollered her name. From the sound of it, he was likely at the end of the corridor, nearing her room. "Are you ready yet?'

Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she stepped into her flats. "Yes," she called. Hermione grabbed the stone Ron had given her from the dresser, tucking it into her handbag.

She'd be with James, and unlikely to use it, but just in case.

* * *

James met her in the foyer, standing to the right of the Floo. His eyes were closed, and his bottom lip sucked into his mouth while he nibbled on it. Gone was his Auror uniform, which she had to admit that it looked nicer on James Potter than it did on most Aurors. He'd dressed casually, a pair of dark jeans with boots.

Merlin, fuck, they even _matched._

His shirt was the same colour as her, and James wore a leather jacket over it that was clearly Sirius' influence.

She wanted to climb him.

"Are you ready to go?" Hermione's voice cracked, and she inwardly cringed.

He cracked one eye open, lowering his arms from where they had been folded over his chest, and both of his eyes flew open. It would have been comical had she not felt like she was being scrutinised.

That was silly. Hermione was a bright witch, and there was no mistaking the look crossing his face. Mixed with desire, and wanting, his eyes darkened. She lifted her chin as he closed the gap between them in two steps.

"You're bloody gorgeous." Whatever she had expected, she hadn't expected him to blurt a reply. James reached up, twisting a styled curl around his finger. He murmured something else under his breath, but she didn't hear, and she didn't ask him to repeat himself. "Ready then?"

She nodded. "Where are we going?"

He flashed her a grin before sliding an arm around her waist. Pressed against her, James dipped his head, and whispered, "Surprise."

Her shriek tumbled through the manor when he Apparated them both.

* * *

One thing was clear from the moment they landed in Diagon Alley: her infatuation with James Potter had never gone away. One a teenage crush, and now something much heavier, Hermione wanted to disappear. It was cowardly, but Apparating into Ron and Harry's flat would be easy. It would be easy to stop into the joke shop, and sneak to their Floo.

All because she had no idea how to accept or work through the feelings that were rapidly snowballing in her stomach.

He held her hand. James traced the inside of her palm, citing that there was absolutely a fortune teller just a few shoppes away while she bit the inside of her cheek. "It would be fun." He said.

Hermione shook her head. "Just like Divination, it's all rubbish." It wasn't the reason she refused. It wouldn't take a Seer to see just how Hermione felt. _Oh, yes… I see a man entering your life soon. Tall, dark, and rougeish. But there are several trials for that relationship to work, and is more likely to end in heartbreak… _She could hear it already.

James knocked his hip against hers to get her attention, nearly sending her tumbling when she slipped. He caught her, however, and she swallowed. "So, no fortune then." He continued, either not noticing her flushed cheeks, or maybe he blamed it on the weather. "Well…" He looked around them, and his face lit up. "Follow me."

It wasn't as if he gave her a choice. Gripping her hand tightly in his, his thumb occasionally brushing over her knuckles. James led her down the street. "You walk too fast." Hermione wheezed, almost tripping to keep up. "Your legs are much longer than mine. One of your steps is two of mine!"

He chuckled, coming to a stop as she breathed. Jame looked down at her legs, lingering there for longer than necessary before meeting her gaze again. "Ice cream?"

The alley behind him looked quite nice, but Hermione pushed the thought from her mind.

"Sounds great." She pulled her scarf over her face in an effort to hide her warm cheeks. The street was slick under the soles of her boots as she followed him into an ice cream parlor that was already mostly empty.

An elderly couple sat in a booth at the back of the room, sharing a shake between them.

James squeezed her hand, and she found that he'd followed her gaze. "Good idea."

They sat in a booth in front of the window, which set him on edge as he mumbled that they were in the open into the comm nestled in his ear. "They won't listen to me." He groaned.

She sipped the milkshake between them, pulling it toward her when he stabbed his straw into it. Fake date or not, sharing the frozen treat felt too much like a real date, and she couldn't stand it. "What did they say?"

James shrugged out of his jacket. "Sirius warned me if I didn't sit where I was supposed to that he would come in and sit me himself. Honestly," he groaned, awkwardly leaning across the table. "I'd like to see him try. I'd win."

Hermione's hands fell away from the chilled glass as he took a too long drink. "You'll get a—"

He held his hand to his forehead with a grimace. "Yeah, I did."

Crowds milled about in Diagon, and couples passed where they sat, most laughing and smiling. She supposed that she ought to have been doing the same considering their date was meant to be believable. "Are Aurors watching us?"

He nodded, his index finger lifting slightly and pointing across the street. "There's a flat above that abandoned shop. Sirius is up there."

Naturally his partner would be with them. "Who else?"

"Harry and Ron are there. Auror Gladstone is with them; he checks the perimeter using—"

"Diagnostic spells." Hermione cut in. "I know. I've read all about well, everything. I considered joining the Aurors with Harry and Ron." Hermione's knee bumped his under the table, and she rested her cheek in her hand. "Nothing so far then?"

His hand shot to his ear, and he winced. "Sirius is screaming at me."

"Why?"

"He's giving me advice on how to take someone on a date. And now he's saying that just because I'm out of practice isn't an excuse. Oh," he sniggered, glaring across the way. "Now he says it's just like riding a broom: you don't forget."

Hermione laughed. "I'm sure that's not true, you being out of practice, I mean." There was a clatter in the back of the shop where the employee had vanished to, and Hermione laid a hand over his forearm as he stiffened. "She dropped something. It's fine."

"You considered being an Auror?" His attempt to change the subject didn't go unnoticed, but she didn't say anything. "Why didn't I know about that?"

Plenty of reasons, the first being that until two weeks previously, she wouldn't have been on terms with James Potter where she would randomly tell him about her life. No, that was his son. "I don't know why you would, but it's surprising that Harry never mentioned it. He was such a nag when I withdrew my enlistment form."

His brows lifted. "You signed up?"

Hermione swallowed hard, not liking the turn of the conversation. She supposed she might as well tell the truth of how she hadn't actually withdrawn her form at all. "Yes. After I returned to Hogwarts for my final year, Harry and Ron were already halfway through training. They joked that I would finish with them since I've always been at the top of anything. I visited with the Ministry shrink to be cleared for it, and they rejected me."

From the way he ripped the comm out of his ear, she imagined Harry and Ron were yelling. It was something she'd never told them, and given that she'd told them it was her choice to withdraw, they had never looked into it. "Do you want to talk about it?"

_Not particularly_ Hermione's memories of the war were locked up tightly in a box at the back of her mind, but newspaper clippings had cracked it open like it had never been hidden. "I was told I'm too volatile to be in the field."

His fingers tapped against the table in a quick rhythm. "Did you truly want to be an Auror?"

At the time, yes, but that was long gone. "Maybe," Hermione breathed. "Chasing criminals is admirable, and I'm grateful for the DMLE for keeping society safe. I just think I've had my fill of chasing Dark Wizards. Did you ever feel that way?"

James' grip tightened on the edge of the table. "Not when it's the only thing I'm good at."

"I don't think that's true at all." Hermione whispered. "But I have to admit, you're a hell of an Auror." When he reached for her hand, she let him, allowing the warmth from him to seep into her. "James, I wanted to ask you something."

Hair fell into his face as he tilted his head to the side.

"Actually, it's not my business anyway." Hermione then said. "Forget it."

"You can ask anything you like."

"It's not my place. I hardly know you, and it's not exactly impersonal." Hermione muttered. "Did you eat all of the ice cream?"

He grinned. "You were busy talking." James dipped his finger and held it out to her, knocking the spoon off the table with his free hand. "Go on."

_For the love of—_

Her nose crinkled. "That's unsanitary."

"I washed my hands before we ate."

Hermione laughed harder than she had, but wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was the childish look on James' face, or the way he waggled his finger in front of her, or maybe it was just because everything about _that_ moment made her chest feel light. For a second, she wasn't focused on why there were there, to draw out a stalker.

James wiped the whipped cream, and ice cream across her nose, and she knew she wasn't pretending.

Not really.

* * *

If James was anything like he acted on a fake date while on a real date, Hermione didn't know how he wasn't already in a relationship. It wasn't because of Lily, and she only knew that because Harry's said it before. While he'd mourned the loss, and still did on anniversaries of her death, James Potter had moved on as much as one could from losing a spouse.

After they had overstayed their welcome by ten minutes, Hermione followed him from the ice cream parlor, and he discreetly put the comm back into his ear. The scolding he received was audible even to her, and so was Sirius' voice.

According to Gladstone, they hadn't seen anyone entering Diagon Alley, and advised that the night could be a failure. James delivered the news that it would mean them coming out again, going on another date, and she forced a nod instead of focusing on the nerves that threatened to drive her mental.

Walking through the streets as businesses began to close around them, she looked down at their conjoined hands. "You know," Hermione broke the silence. "I'm really sorry that you've had to watch over me. I imagine it feels like babysitting a child, but I'm appreciative for all you've done."

James came to a sudden stop, looking at her with a dumbfounded look on his face. "Hermione, you've never been boring, and I haven't thought of you as a child for several years now." The way he stared at her felt the same as when they were in layers of snow, gravitating toward one another, and she wasn't quite sure what came next.

It was important to remember that this was Harry's father, the same man that partially watched her grow up over summers, that signed S.P.E.W with a kind smile, and it's _not_ reasonable for her to be so attracted to him. Not even for a single bloody moment.

With her abysmal luck, and tendency to talk out loud while a spelled quill took notes for her, Hermione muttered, "S.P.E.W." under her breath.

He caught her hand as it flew to her mouth, grinning ear to ear. His eyes were brighter then, flecks of gold catching beneath the street lamp they're huddled under. "Oh, Merlin. I probably still have that in a drawer somewhere at home." James chuckled, his face nearing hers.

"What? Why?'

"Honestly..." He gave another laugh, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I'm a packrat. Sirius and Remus tell me all the time, the incessant nags. But I know I must have kept it because you were Harry's friend, and I thought it was cute. Fuck, I can still remember how angry you were up until you learned from all our elves that they were paid. Individually."

It was akin to cold water being dumped over her head. Logically, Hermione knew that he wasn't laughing _at _her, but it was hard to separate the thought when her heart grabbed it and ran with it. It'd been her fault to be foolish enough to know how all of this was a fake scenario, and then to push the truth away. There was nothing real about this beyond her own feelings. "Right." Hermione cleared her throat, pivoting and moving past him. "Well, you ought to throw it in a bin."

"Hermione, wait!" James caught her within two steps, his eyes wide when he forced her to look at him. "What's wrong? I thought we were having a great night."

They had been, but for different reasons.

She wrenched her arm out of his grip. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just exhausted, and I want to go home."

His eyes narrowed. "We haven't gotten the go ahead to leave, Hermione." James said softly, reaching for her again. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" His voice sounded so vulnerable that she caved.

Opening her mouth to embarrass herself even further, Hermione turned away from him. It wasn't like he needed to see her when traitorous tears were stinging her eyes.

Sirius' voice stretched between them, distorted by static, and Hermione froze. "Get her out of there now!"

_Need to move._

Frozen to the spot while thinking that she better than this, a spell slammed into her back. Landing between two discs in her spine, her breath escaped her in a shuddering breath, and her knees buckled.

James looked at her to where the spell had come from.

"Go." Hermione snapped, her hands curling into fists. "Fucking go, James!"

Laying with her forehead to the chilly cobblestone, she wished it would cool the way her blood caught on fire.

She couldn't move, not even an inch, and especially not to pick herself up, or wrap her fingers around the stone. A swift crack signalling Apparition filled the air, and without craning her head back, Hermione knew whoever it was had likely gotten away. Footsteps neared her, and knees fell to the street right beside her.

"Hermione, can you hear me?" She nodded, wincing as James turned her onto her back, and pulled her into his arms. Resting her against him, he pushed her hair back, checking her face for any injuries. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two." She whispered. Hermione managed to lift her hands, pulling at her collar while she looked him over. "You need to take me St Mungos."

"'Mione!" _Harry._

She dropped her hands to her middle, heavily breathing as she realised she'd been intending to hold onto James. Her stomach twisted violently, her heart clenched painfully, and she wasn't at all sure what was happening to her. "The spell—"

"You know what it was?" James asked hopefully, eagerly. "No? Fuck! I can't believe I let him get away."

Voices grew entangled with one another. Harry, and Ron. Sirius and James. All while she was trapped in the middle, and her body wouldn't obey her thoughts. "St Mungos." She murmured, fisting her hand in James' shirt. "Matching." Hermione reminded him quietly.

His hand tightened around her waist. "Merlin—"

Ron's voice lashed out. "Can you stop bickering long enough to get her proper help?" A blur of red hovered over her as her body was shifted by force. "Fucking give her to me, Potter. You're too busy arguing to do your job."

Ron told her to nod if she could Apparate since it was the fastest way.

She didn't know, but as if a hand gripped a vital part of her chest and pulled, Hermione told him to do it.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm *hoping* for a regular update next Monday, but nano kicks off Friday and I have another fest to finish. So if my update schedule is derailed, you know why. But what I can say is that there's smut next chapter even if this ends up being six chapters instead of five.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief note to start off: this was meant to be three chapters, then it was five, and tragically, that didn't work out either. Chapter six will be the final chapter, I hope. There wasn't enough room to finish it in this chapter without tying up the loose ends of the stalker with an "off-screen" scene, and I felt that would be a poor thing to do for the story.
> 
> Reminder that this story is rated M, and there is a reason for that. There is smut in this chapter. As the giftee, LadyKenz347, adamantly said when this was posted: 'get that man's face between her thighs asap'. Consider it done, my friend. Lol.
> 
> Endless thank you's to Frumpologist for prereading, and to mcal for prereading, and also editing this. Any remaining mistakes belong to me. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Pain laced through her, starting in her chest and branching outward. Gasping for each breath, Hermione heard Ron barking orders as they landed. It was by luck that Apparition hadn't splinched her. "I think," Hermione wheezed, fisting his uniform. "I think I'm going to pass out."

Her vision blurred. There were bright lights over her head, and Ron shifted her weight as he laid her on what she could assume was a caught. "Stay awake a little bit longer, Hermione." Ron coaxed. "We're taking you back now, and we'll know what's wrong."

"They're not going to find him., are they?" She whispered, grappling for his hand as healers whisked her down the corridor. "Ron?"

He sighed. "Probably not, but right now, you just need to focus on yourself."

The very last thing she knew at all was a dip in the floor that the wheel to the right of her head hit.

* * *

Someone was holding her hand, stroking the back of it absently while she laid in bed. Hermione kept her breathing even, unwilling to open her eyes just yet. The smell of St Mungo's flooded her senses, but most of all, there were voices, each trying to rise over the other.

"It was a dark curse." Sirius murmured somewhere to the left of her. "And there's nothing you could have done. He infiltrated the perimeter before we knew he was there."

The man holding her hand didn't respond for a long moment, and the clock on the way allowed her to judge just how long it took. _One, two, three, four, and all the way up to ten. _"How did we not know?" _James._

The earlier sensation of her clenched heart painfully returned, and a machine beeped over her head.

"Gladstone should have known he was there. It's his bloody job." James snapped. "The curse—"

Sirius swallowed hard, the sound of him clicking his tongue immediately following. "Don't go there, Prongs. You'll only get angry, and if you trash another room, Healer Jones will throw you on your arse, bodyguard or not."

Fingers tightened around hers. "Sirius, what if he had taken her? It was close."

"Don't be dramatic, he wasn't that close to her." Seconds of silence ticked by, and Hermione wondered what they were saying without a word. "I know it was close, but what matters is that she's safe."

A choked sound that was undoubtedly, unmistakably James filled the air. "_Safe," _he snorted. "Is that what you call this?"

"She's here, isn't she?" SIrius snarled. "I know you're angry—"

"Rightfully so, Sirius! I was watching her, and I was meant to—"

"Are you going to have a pity party, or discuss what comes next?" He hissed. "Keep in mind that your son and their best friend are standing on the other side of that door. Anything you say—anything you let _slip_—they're going to hear."

James' laugh was low, and hoarse under his breath. "It's nothing Harry doesn't already know. He's been watching me ever since she was put under my care, which maybe that was a fucking mistake."

Her head was pounding. Hermione struggled to stay awake, and a machine beeped just over her head. The uncomfortable hospital bed dipped below her, and a hand smoothed a path of her arm, leaving the hair there to stand on end in its wake. "My head," she moaned, twisting in the sheets.

"Hermione?"

"I'll grab the healer," Sirius barked, and the door slammed open, but the sound of it closing never came.

"Both of you stay back," James ordered. "Weasley, I'll stun you if you take another step. Stay back."

Her body thrashed without permission, and Hermione felt something bubble up behind her lips. "James—"

Ron's voice boomed through the room, causing her head to split open even more than it already was. "Don't you think you've done enough for her?"

"Ron—" There was Harry. He'd be the voice of reason, wouldn't he? "She's asking for him."

She hadn't noticed that it was true until then, but it was true. James' name continued to fall from her like a prayer repeatedly, and she could only assume that she'd fisted her hands in his shirt, considering her eyes wouldn't open even as she tried. Hermione knew the exact moment the healer swept into the room.

He called it a seizure, and told them to clear the room.

Hermione croaked, and the definition of the word—which she absolutely knew, it had been on the tip of her tongue—slipped away from her with her consciousness.

* * *

She cracked one eye open, and waited for the pain to return.

It didn't.

Hermione propped herself up in the bed, finding her legs to be completely asleep. The only light in the room was that of the lamp to her right, and just beyond that, she found James sleeping on the sofa. Hair fell across his forehead, and his arm was propped under his head. He hadn't changed out of uniform, and his boots were still tightly laced.

His wand was gripped in his hand, pointing toward the door, and even while asleep, he was frowning.

Dragging her legs over the side of the bed, and ignoring the almost painful tingle she received as she padded across the room, Hermione knelt beside him. "James," she whispered, running a finger along his arm. "James." Even when she poked him in the ribs there was no response.

Hermione leaned back on her knees, dragging her fingers through her hair. Warmth coiled in her stomach pleasantly. Foreign to her, she frowned. "James, wake up!" Hermione shook him, and found herself at the other end of his wand, the tip of it digging into her throat.

Dark eyes widened, and his wand tumbled out of his grip. "Hermione," James whispered, cupping her face as she caught the slender piece of wood. "They didn't know when you would wake up."

She leaned into him, nuzzling her cheek against his palm as her hair fell back into her face with the motion. "Surely you didn't think you could get rid of me so easily."

There was not a single trace of humor on his face. "Don't joke about that," he rasped, and her nose brushed his.

It wasn't an accidental contact, and the realisation sent Hermione scrambling to get away from him. "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate. I—" She broke off. "I overheard you talking to Sirius about a dark curse?"

"Is that all you heard?"

She possessed fragments of that particular conversation, nothing that seemed important, but from his reaction… "I don't remember much else." Hermione said. "Harry and Ron burst into the room. Ron argued with you, and I was..." Hermione's fingers shook. "I was asking for you, over and over again." _How fucking mortifying_. "The curse, James?"

He was looking at her lips, his gaze lingering there, and her stomach tightened. "We were right about your stalker being obsessed with you in a more…"

She nodded.

"It's a dark curse that latches to your magical core," he murmured, brushing hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "Healers think it's been modified with a spell to induce lust, but until you have the object of your affections…"

All at once, the building heat in her belly made sense. Her heart was already pounding for no reason, and she was light headed. "And if I don't?" Hermione feared she already knew the answer.

"You'll fall into a coma." James hesitated. "It's not a curse that's been seen in recent times, and there's only speculation of what would follow."

"Get me out of here," she ground out. "Take me home."

His eyebrows shot up. "You need to be examined by healers still, and they'll release you in the morning."

Hermione shook her head. "Please, James. Just take me anywhere but here."

With a muted mutter that this was a _terrible _idea, he climbed to his feet and extended his hand.

* * *

Potter Manor wasn't big enough to put enough space between them. She felt as if she were seconds from pushing him to the wall, to tangling her fingers in his hair and fervently pressing her lips to his, to—to—to doing something she could never come back from. Hermione turned away from him the moment they came through the Floo, brushing green soot from her shoulder as she hurried away from him.

He caught up with her easily. "Shouldn't we talk about this?"

Hermione didn't turn, and pulled her shoulder out from under his hand. "There's nothing to say."

"That's bullshite, and you know it." James growled. "He cursed you with a curse that would have—"

Raising a brow, she glanced at him. "What are you really so angry about? Is it that you weren't able to protect me? Mistakes happen, and I certainly don't blame you for it. We were too busy arguing to—"

"It's my job to protect you. I shouldn't have been distracted, but fuck me if you're not the most distracting woman I've ever met!"

Sucking in a breath, Hermione didn't linger on those words.

"I'm furious that he cursed you with _this_. It's not a lust potion, which would have made you need whoever made it. He chose to curse you with a dark spell that would never cause you to—"

Hermione swallow. "Rationally, his thinking is probably that if he can't have me, then no one can. If healers don't discover a cure, it's likely going to kill me." She shrugged. The prospect was terrifying, but she wore a mask of indifference even as her heart rattled like a toy.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and the veins stood out from his arms as he folded them across his broad chest. "How can you say that?"

"It's the truth, James. What do you want me to say? Do you want to hear that I'm fucking terrified? Of course I am! There's a monster out there waiting for another shot at me," she screamed, her eyes watering. "Just let me go to bed."

James did nothing of the sort. He followed her through the long corridors, still talking while she ignored him. His voice had an unfair affect over her, a low raspy drawl that she wanted to hear just beside her ear as he—

She walked with her thighs pressed together, pushing the thought away.

James sighed heavily. "Hermione, you can just wait for healers to try to find a cure. There's a possibility they won't."

Fixing him with a glare, Hermione found it was impossible to remain angry as he pleaded with her. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. It's currently my only option." _Unless… He's right there. I could tell him the truth._

James' nostrils flared. "Just give me the bloke's name and I'll—"

"You'll _what_? Bring him here to give me a quick shag into the mattress since that's what this spell has done to me?" she snapped. Rubbing her thighs together to give herself friction she desperately needed, Hermione knew she had to just get away from James.

But the movement didn't go unnoticed. His eyes darkened, narrowing as he took a short step forward and completely close the distance between them. "Hermione—" He rasped.

"You want a name?" she challenged, daring him to ask her again.

"Hermione—"

"James." Hermione breathed, and laughed miserably when he didn't understand. "You wanted a name. That's it." Hermione spun on her heel while tears stung her eyes. She might be brave, but she wasn't going to stay so she can be rejected. It had been a mistake, she knew that instantly. Egged on by a false sense of bravado and her own irritation, she'd crossed a line.

He sprinted after her, skidding around the corner she had ducked around in an effort to escape into her own room. "Hermione, please wait." He caught her, hands lightly gripping her shoulders as he steered her toward him. "Stop running away from me. You're always running away from me." He whispered, tilting her head up by tucking his finger under her chin.

She tried to turn away so he wouldn't see the beginning of her tears, but he held her there. Right against him, her chest pressed to his while he peered down at her. "I want you to go away."

"Tough," he murmured, tracing her lips. "Unless I've been less obvious than everyone has told me, you've gotta know already."

Struggling to swallow as her legs threatened to give out, Hermione shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A smirk curved his lips. "Are you sure about that?"

Hermione nodded.

His fingers slid against her spine, and she shivered. "I'm fucking mental about you, love. I have been for a while."

She gripped his forearms, holding herself up as pressure built in her lower stomach. "You—what?"

James nodded. "I'm not supposed to have the sort of thoughts I do about you, and I've tried not to, but it doesn't do me any good."

Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. "That can't be true."

His laugh tickled her earlobe. "Are you kidding? My own son noticed the moment it started, which I know you'll ask."

Hermione gulped.

"There was a gala for the memorial this year. I didn't want to go, I never do, but Sirius and Remus forced me to. You were all I could stare at. Do you remember the dress you wore?" His hands settled on her hips, raising up her sides until his thumbs brushed the sides of her breasts.

"It was red," Hermione gasped. "Strapless."

"Good girl. There was a slit in the bottom, running so high that I didn't think it could possibly be you. I watched you from across the room, nearly bit a hole in my lip from how much I chewed it."

Her vision was blurry around the edges. "You could have asked me to dance."

James' head lowered, and his lips were hot against the pulse point of her throat, his teeth nipping the sensitive flesh there. "I didn't only want to dance with you," he murmured.

"What—" Hermione's voice broke, her lips wrapping delicately around a soft moan that he coaxed from her as his hand slid down the middle of her back. "What did you want then? Tell me."

Gazing darkly at her, James walked her backward until her spine met the wall, and he wedged his knee between her thighs. "Sweetheart, make no mistake about just what I want, but I don't want to take advantage of you while you're under a curse. If it's only—"

"I want you." Hermione whispered, closing her fingers around the lapels of his jacket. "Just you and no one else." Dragging her lips along the line of his sharp jawline, she knew that was all it took. "Tell me what you wanted."

James shuddered. "I wanted to peel that dress from your body, exposing every inch of you. I wanted you in my bed while you writhed under my mouth, my fingers." He lifted the hem of her shirt, his hands sliding under it to press against her hot skin. "I imagined how fucking perfect you'd feel with your cunt wrapped around my cock."

It had been coming for several minutes when her legs gave out, and she clutched his biceps. "Oh, God."

Lifting her easily, James smirked as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "Are you sure?" He asked, and bit where her throat met her shoulder, his tongue flicking out to roll across her skin.

"I'm certain that if you don't take me into one of our bedrooms that I will never forgive you," Hermione growled.

He kicked open the door to her bedroom, and closed it just the same. James continued to lav at her skin while she tore at his uniform. Hermione pushed the jacket from his shoulders, and made quick work of the buttons of his shirt. "Eager," he murmured, and deposited her onto the middle of the bed.

James watched, his hands lowering to his belt, as she tore her shirt over her head. "Sweet fucking Circe." He left his boots in a pile with his trousers, and crawled onto the bed with her.

Hermione shoved her jeans down her legs, kicking them over the edge of the mattress before reaching for him. Framing his face with her hands, she surged forward to kiss him.

He nipped her lips, dragging his nails lightly down her back while gathering her in his lap. Her legs rested around him as she pressed herself to him, whimpering as she ground her pelvis to his. "James," she moaned.

His fingers closed over her nipple, rolling the little nub gently as her head fell back. "You're gorgeous, so fucking stunning." He praised her, laying her backward as he rested in the cradle of her thighs.

"Please don't tease," Hermione whispered as he stroked her inner thighs. "I need—"

"You'll have everything you need, love." He rasped, kneeling between her legs as he kissed a path down her stomach. "But I've waited so long, I want to enjoy every inch of you if you'll let me. Unless the curse is—"

She shook her head. "I'm perfect, just impatient to feel you." The blanket was bunched in her fists, and she hissed as he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to the apex of her thighs.

Teasing and slow, James' tongue slid against her through her lace knickers, a tiny scrap of fabric that she'd worn only to boost her confidence while they went on their fake date. "As much as I appreciate these," He breathed, hooking his fingers into the sides, "they have to go."

They were abandoned in the floor, somewhere in the room and she wasn't inclined to know where at the moment.

"Move your legs up, Hermione," James ordered softly, and she rested her feet against the bed, feeling incredibly vulnerable as she was spread open for him. A muted curse came from James. Without another word, he flattened his tongue against her clit, rolling against the bundle of nerves.

"_Oh..." _Hermione's head met the pillows and her fingers knotted in his hair as she whimpered.

Two fingers slid into her, slowly at first, teasing her as they curled inside of her and she feared it wouldn't take very long at all to fall apart. His pace quickened, as did the stroke of his tongue, consistently sliding across her cunt to the sound of weak moans.

"I'm—" Hermione's thighs shut on their own accord as her back arched, and she was just on the edge of her climax cresting when his name ripped free of her and her fingers tugged at his hair.

As she came down, heavily breathing and panting his name as her legs fell apart, James lapped at her folds, slowly winding her up. "You're breathtaking when you come, love," he murmured, and she trembled under him. "I could watch it for hours."

Hermione swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she brushed sweaty hair from her forehead. "That's easily arranged." Hermione breathed, sitting up even as she felt boneless. "I can't think of a better way to spend a day."

He rested on his side next to her, and kissed her roughly. Sliding closer to him, Hermione wrapped her fingers around him, slowly stroking him as a low hiss slipped between his teeth. "James?"

"I should have given in sooner."

She smiled, her thumb stroking across the head of his cock. "If we hadn't been interrupted that day…" They both knew just what she was talking about. "Not that we should have shagged in the snow."

"I wanted to climb into that shower with you when I walked in. I thought about it." He admitted, groaning as she insisted on closing her lips around his cock. Her tongue slid against it, and she took him farther into her mouth. James didn't look away from her as she took him all the way into her mouth, the tip meeting the back of her throat. "Fuck!" He groaned, twisting her curls around his knuckles.

He pulled her off of him, and she curved her fingers around the nape of his neck, grinning wryly. "Any particular way you want me?"

James' eyes flashed. "Ladies' pick. Since I plan on having you in every—" His hand slid between her thighs, eliciting a strangled moan "—way, I'm not picky." Reaching behind her back, he unsnapped her bra, tossing is across the room as he lowered his head.

Hermione combed her fingers through his hair as he pressed slow kisses to each inch of the long scar that stretched across her chest even years later. "Don't focus on that," she murmured.

Luckily, he didn't ask any questions. James rested her legs over his shoulders and entered her with one thrust.

Soft, mewling whimpers left her as she adjusted to the size of him, and she bit her lower lip hard. "Oh, James,"

His hips snapped forward, slamming into her until she was utterly breathless and whimpering for him not to stop, to _please don't stop. _"Good girl." James growled, cupping one of her breasts and dragging his thumb across the pebbled center.

Reaching between them, Hermione's circled her clit with the pads of her fingers, pleased with the way his eyes grew impossibly darker as she did. The pain that had previously been in her stomach, coiling tighter and tighter was gone. She hadn't noticed the exact moment it had vanished, but she suspected it was the second his face dropped between her thighs.

He praised her softly, telling her how she was so pretty while her hair was crushed against the pillows, and a layer of sweat was flush against her skin. Her fingers quickened with the steady thrust of his hips. "I'm so close." Hermione mewled. "So, so—"

James swatted her hand away, his calloused thumb pressing against her as her arm grew weak. "That's it, sweetheart. Let me see you come over my cock." He rasped, his voice thick.

Her lips formed his name and it escaped her as a scream. Writhing against the sheets, and raking her nails down his back so roughly there would be marks in the morning, Hermione managed weak breaths.

With a soft kiss to her temple, he pulled her into the curve of him and draped the blankets over them. "Shh," he whispered. "We can talk about everything in the morning.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Hermione stirred long before he did. James slept soundly, his bare chest drawing her attention. There was a cluster of scars across his chest that she would be sure to trace with her finger, her _tongue_, if she got the chance. Blissfully happy in her own bubble, Hermione didn't wake him. She lifted the covers gently, careful not to make any sudden movements.

Still completely nude, she snatched her knickers from the floor, and the shirt that James had been wearing the night before. Once in the corridor, and the door was closed behind her, she stepped into her knickers, balancing by pressing one hand to the wall. His shirt was loose on her, falling to her mid-thigh, and Hermione found that she rather liked the way it looked on her.

She had the sneaking suspicion that James would like it even more than she did, and wouldn't hesitate to tear it over her head. Ignoring the heat that bloomed in her belly—which thankfully wasn't the same sort that the curse had dealt her—she padded away from the room before she could do something she _wouldn't _regret. Like straddling him, her calves bracketing his hips as she sank down on him, taking every inch of him so quickly she forgot how to breathe.

The manor was silent, but as she neared the kitchen, she could hear the whistle of a kettle. There, she found Topsy bouncing around as she prepared breakfast.

"It's being lunch time, Miss Hermione." She flapped her ears, peering up at Hermione. "Has you lost your clothes?"

Hermione stifled a giggle as her cheeks grew hot. "They're dirty."

"Hmm," Topsy shook her head. "I'll bet." She flounced back toward the kettle, and pointed toward a plate of sandwiches. "Mister Potter will be wanting the ones on the right."

Taking a seat on the stool, Hermione made sure to steal one of James' anyway. "What's this?" Hermione asked, waving a sealed letter through the air. "You haven't opened it?"

Topsy shook her head once more. "I don't be opening the mail. Mister Potter says not to."

Of course. That made sense, but it was addressed to _her. _Not to Auror Potter, or James Potter, or even Hermione Granger, at least in name.

But it was for her.

The edge of the table dug into her palm as she pushed away from the table. "Topsy, I'll be in the other room making a Floo call in case James comes looking for me."

Dread coiled in her stomach as each step away from the room felt akin to blocks of cement being tied to her feet. There was no name, not even a pair of initials to reveal who the sender had been. Yet, Hermione already knew.

She ought to go upstairs, and wake James. This was the break they'd been waiting for, and she began to stitch together a plan. He'd never allow it, not if he had the chance to say no, which she deemed preposterous. They had already used her as bait once, albeit with minimal success, but it _had _drawn the stalker out.

She sighed. Hermione threw powder into the fireplace, calling out for Ron and Harry's flat. She shifted her weight, dragging her—James'—shirt down. _Oh, I should have changed. Even if Harry already suspected something, and I'm certain he does, it doesn't mean I have to proclaim the truth of it so boldly._

A head of familiar red hair entered the frame. "'Mione?" His eyes narrowed, and his nose scrunched up. "Are you wearing—"

A strangled sound of indignation escaped her, followed by a sharp exhale through her nose. "That doesn't matter right now."

Harry walked up from behind him, and while he did look the tiniest bit surprised, it was clear he'd been expecting this. "Hermione?"

She held up the letter. "I know who the stalker is."

Ron's mouth opened wide, and she knew he was about to yell.

"I think we should lure him out. I don't think it will be hard," Hermione continued, ripping the letter open.

Harry shouted, "Fuck, you can't just do that!" Bright green eyes met hers. "The last time you—"

A stone fell into her hand, one very similar to the one that Ron had given her when all of this began. Magic thrummed through it, and a faint chill crept through her palm. "It's a portkey."

"_Don't _fucking activate it." Ron snapped. "Using you as a bait wasn't the best idea we've ever had, and I didn't agree with it from the start."

"Where's my Dad? You need to take it to him." Harry rushed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying that we send me off with this. After all, we have no idea where it leads, but Harry, do you remember your seventeenth birthday?"

They both paused, exchanging a long look. "Polyjuice?" Ron murmured. "All three of us?"

She nodded. "We can assume this will take me right to him. If we all take hold of it, disguised as me, he won't know which is the real one."

Ron shook his head. "It's too dangerous. We need to get to the DMLE, and _you_ need to tell your assigned Auror that you've received another threat."

Hermione ended the call with a terse nod, schooling her features so they wouldn't realise she'd lied directly to their faces. Spinning on her heel, she gripped the letter tightly in her fist, the words making her chest tighten.

—_feel your bones crack as I split you open at the mark you wear that belongs to me—_

A jagged line of purple was painted into the front of the letter, crumpling as her fist tightened.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le gasp.
> 
> I'll have the next chapter up as soon as possible. Also if it interests you, I'll have a oneshot that I'll post by Christmas. It's a multi, and mainly just a bunch of smut. Hermione/Sirius/Remus/James. Let me know what you thought of this chapter? Till next time!


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't lie, this is shorter than all the other chapters, but I think it ties up nicely. I hope you enjoyed this story, and all my love to LadyKenz347 who it was originally written for. Sorry it ran so long, and sorry it finished two months after your birthday.
> 
> Thanks to mcal to editing and reassuring me!

**Can't lie, this is shorter than all the other chapters, but I think it ties up nicely. I hope you enjoyed this story, and all my love to LadyKenz347 who it was originally written for. Sorry it ran so long, and sorry it finished two months after your birthday.**

**Thanks to mcal to editing and reassuring me!**

* * *

Sunlight cut across the bed, and James dragged his blanket over his face, shielding his eyes from the sharp rays. Blindly, he reached across the bed for Hermione, seeking out the soft curves he'd run his hands over the night before as she cried out.

"Hermione?" He whispered, his voice muffled.

Her side of the bed was empty, and cold.

His brow furrowing, James shot out of bed. Her clothes were gone, no longer littered across the floor with his own. Her wand was missing from the nightstand, and there was a folded piece of parchment in its place.

Dread flooded him. Did she already regret the night before? Surely not, Hermione had wanted him just as badly as he'd wanted her, but it wouldn't be so surprising for her to overthink this. But they were meant to discuss their rapidly changing relationship in the morning—he'd said as much—and truly, he doubted Hermione had just taken off.

He snatched the parchment from the nightstand, unfolding it as his eyes widened.

No, she hadn't fled because she was nervous.

It was much worse than that.

* * *

Dressed in uniform, James stormed into the DMLE an hour later with a scowl fixed on his face. Harry and Ron both jumped to their feet, and their faces fell. "Do you know where she is?" James snarled, raising the note in his hand.

His son's face paled. "She's not with you?"

James' nostrils flared. "Does it fucking _look _like she's with me?"

Ron inserted himself between them. "She Floo called us two hours ago, and told us about the letter. She wanted the three of us to use Polyjuice in an effort to confuse Dolohov, and then take him in. We told her it was too dangerous to use her as bait again—"

James agreed.

"—and to go straight to you."

Dragging a hand down his face, James bit out, "Did you really think she would?"

"After your the change in your relationship," Harry managed awkwardly, "I figured she wouldn't keep anything from you." His son appeared to be wildly uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Right." James snorted. "You figured the most stubborn witch you've ever met would just not do whatever she thought was best. I'm sorry, have you actually met her?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Alright, then she's probably gone after her own stalker."

Ron silently fumed at his side. "We should have just gone with her." He hissed. "She's Merlin knows where right now. "Can I see the letter?'

James handed it over, his brow still furrowed. "Where's Sirius? He should—"

"You've got to be _fucking _shitting me." Ron growled, tearing his eyes away from the letter. "It's Dolohov."

"How do you—" James began as the room around them burst into activity. Parchment scattered everywhere as an alarm blared from the Head Auror's office.

"He cursed her in the Department of Mysteries our fifth year. There's a scar on her chest—cursed, purple, you've probably seen it, I imagine." Ron snarked. "Nevermind that. There's been recent sightings of him."

Robards stalked across the floor, his hands curled into firsts at his sides. "The wards have been triggered at Miss Granger's flat." He said flatly, exhaling harshly through his nose.

* * *

Sirius Black wasn't angry.

Alright, he was angry, and Hermione knew it as she looked him over.

He held up a hand, shaking his head as her lips parted. "Don't apologise. Save the groveling for _after _we get out of here without dying."

It was a sobering sentence. Hermione swallowed, fingers gripped tightly around her wand as she kept close to him. Their footsteps were near silent as they crept through her flat. "Still," she whispered. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

He shrugged, the muscles in his back contracting with the motion. "Nah," Sirius murmured, popping his knuckles. "Marlene says that's a bad habit."

"It is."

"Anyway, James would have done this too, you know. Probably wouldn't have even told me before he charged off to defend his witch's honour."

She stammered, bumping into his back as he came to a halt. "I'm not—"

His head whipped around, and Sirius arched an eyebrow. "Hermione, you showed up at the door of my flat in his shirt."

"So, that's true, but maybe I just lost my clothes." Hermione snorted.

"Oh, did you lose them in his bedroom?" He shot back.

_It was mine, actually—_

"Down!" Sirius hissed, fingers knotting in her jumper as he tugged her toward the wall hard. "You've got it ready?" He whispered.

Hermione handed the potion over, plucking a piece of her hair. "I still think—"

"I don't give a rat's arse what you think." He snarled, downing it in one go. His features quickly morphed—jarringly so—into an exact replica of her. "Stay here. He won't be expecting this. I'll disarm him."

A loud crash rattled her flat, and she gulped. "It would be better if we fought together."

"Trained Auror." Sirius pointed to himself. "Dangerous, and not to get in the way," He pointed to her. "Prongs will kill me, so let's keep that pretty head on your shoulders, alright?" He shoved her into the corridor closet.

Dread wallowed in her stomach as she reconsidered the choices that had led them to now.

Pressing herself tight against the wall, gripping her wand, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as curses rang out in the space just outside the room. They grew closer and closer.

Sirius' voice pierced the air, and a crash followed it. "_Stupefy!"_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

She hadn't forgotten that voice, not even once. Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth, and peered through the slats in the wardrobe door. Just barely able to make out Sirius posed as her, she could see him duck as a streak of green light jettisoned over his head.

This had been a terrible idea.

It was so _irresponsible._

Hermione fumbled through her pockets, fishing the stone that Ron had given her out. She stared at it for a split second too long, and was jarred back to reality by a pained groan just outside the door. Sirius' weight rocked against it, threatening to bring the entire thing down.

Dolohov's face was paler than she remembered, Hermione thought as she held her wand to the stone. More gaunt than it had been in the war, likely from living on the run.

Activating the wand was simple, but she wasn't sure how long it would take for Aurors to arrive. Ron had promised it would call every last one, and for once, she hoped her friend's exaggerations weren't just that.

"I'm going to _rip _you apart." Dolohov snarled.

Sirius cast a stunner at his chest, and he crumpled before him. "I'd like see you fucking try."

She jumped when a _crack _of Apparition flooded her flat, followed by so many others that she lost count.

Sirius shot a look at her through the door when Dolohov looked in each direction, and sent her a wink. He tackled the Death Eater, and Dolohov's wand shot across the floor, coming to a stop under James' boot.

With his jaw clenched so tightly, she could only imagine the pressure it put on his teeth, he reached down and grabbed Dolohov by the collar. "You," he seethed. James bound his hands while ignoring the strain of profanities that followed. "Azkaban is too good for you."

Even from where she was hidden, Hermione could make out his words.

James lifted his head, brushing his disheveled hair out of his face, and stared at Sirius, eyes narrowed. "You scared the absolute shite out of me." James took another step, towering above what he _thought _was her.

_Oh, no._

Hermione cracked the door, sliding it open.

Ron noticed her first, and dragged his eyes across the room before ultimately bringing them back to her. "What?" he mouthed.

James kissed Sirius.

Rather passionately, might she add. His fingers sunk into messy curls, and he angled his body toward hers—_his, _she meant—and blocked anyone from watching them. She'd have thought it romantic, if it had actually been the right witch James was kissing.

Waving his hands around while trying to escape, even dropping his wand in the process after Dolohov is hauled in by another Auror, his disagreement was muffled. It wasn't as if you could miss it, though. Harry and Ron stared at her as they burst into obnoxious laughter.

Finally freeing himself, Sirius pried James off of him. "I'm not your witch, mate!" he yelled. "_That's _your witch!" Sirius pointed to Hermione. "But fuck me if you can't snog well."

James' face flushed red, and his blush climbed all the way to the top of his ears as she gave a small wave. "Are you serious?" She asked.

"No, I'm Sirius," he bit out. "I know we can't tell right now, but did you have to snog me so well?"

"Shut up, Padfoot."

"If another bloke ever snogs me, I'll probably be disappointed now, you prick!"

Still sniggering, Harry and Ron took Sirius to usher him out of the room. "We'll just leave you two alone." Harry said, dragging his godfather out the door. She could still hear another joke on the other side of the closed door, but she missed the punchline.

James dragged his fingers through his hair. "He's joking about the snogging."

Hermione smiled. "Oh, I don't know about that. You are a rather exceptional snogger."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but James didn't comment on that. "You scared me this morning."

"I know."

Closing the gap between them, his fingers skimmed her arm. "You could have come to me. I would have helped you. You must realise that."

Nodding, she raised her chin to look up at him. "I didn't want to stay behind, and you would have made me. Out of concern for my safety, I know. And I have to admit that I know what a horrible idea this was. It was irresponsible, and reckless. I could have caused Sirius to be hurt, or even worse—"

James kissed her much slower than he had Sirius. His hands settled on her waist, tugging her forward as his tongue slid along the seam of her lips. "You're right." He murmured.

"I'm so sorry, James."

"I know." Warmth seeped through her jumper as he rubbed slow circles over her back. "I promise I won't ever try to stop you from doing something again." He murmured, resting his chin on top of her head. "Just—if it's not too much to ask, please trust me if something like this ever happens again."

"If anything happens like this again—"

He kissed her again, walking her backward until her spine met the wall, and words became meaningless.

* * *

James and Sirius—once he was back to being himself and not a polyjuiced version of her—booked Antonin Dolohov at the DMLE. She watched them lead him in magical shackles down to the cells that would only be temporary.

"They're not going to keep him here long." Harry voice, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "They won't want to risk him escaping inside the Ministry with all the damage he'd do."

If he did, which was a large _if_ considering James Potter's wand was still drawn, the man would come straight for her office. So would James, and Sirius. And Ron. And Harry. She wasn't worried.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked quietly, turning to look at him. Luckily Ron had already left them since he was already late to meet Susan. "If you are, I can understand why. I'm so sorry, I—"

He laughed, and guided her to the bench against the wall. Taking the seat beside her, Harry grabbed her hand. "I'm not mad at you."

Her eyes widened. "You're not? Really?"

"Of course not. You're my best friend. There's nothing that could come between us," he said. "I mean, shagging my dad is a little weird, but I figure if he makes you happy then that's what matters the most."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione's eyes watered. "I don't want it to be uncomfortable for you. If it is, you don't have to—"

He cut her off again. "Really, Hermione, it's alright. It'll probably take some getting used to, but like I said, best mates."

Bumping her shoulder against his, Hermione leaned her head on him. "Did you already know?"

"That you've fancied him since we were teenagers, or that you still did?"

She growled, "Potter."

Harry's hands shot up in defence. "You were never obvious if that's what you really want to ask. He was though."

"I didn't notice."

"Yeah," Harry drawled. "I don't really know how that happened either." A scroll zipped through the air in front of them. "That day when I popped in uninvited, what was going on? Or do I want to know?"

"He was going to kiss me. I told him this was my favorite season and I couldn't enjoy it, so he brought winter to me in the ballroom."

Harry stared at her. "He _what_?"

She shrugged. "You could learn a thing or two from your father."

He spluttered. "You little—"

* * *

Hermione stacked the parchment, careful to make sure all sides were even, or they would fly everywhere the next time she accidentally nudged it. Her boss had already gone home for the day, leaving a memo for her detailing their schedule for tomorrow. It was meeting after meeting, but unlike a few months ago, Hermione would be able to take an active role in the meeting.

No longer was she pushed to merely take notes. Now she got to lead the quarterly review, and if it went well, well, it would certainly mean good things for her future. Completely due to James stepping in when she'd lost her cool, she didn't suffer the discrimination she once had. Still, there was a lot to do, and making sure everyone—and every creature—had the same privileges as her was at the top of the list.

But first, she had a date.

And she was extremely late.

Pulling the pin she'd fashioned as an accessory that morning while trying to crawl out of bed—_trying_ being the word since someone decided they needed a shag; not that she could complain—out of her hair, Hermione combed her fingers through it the best she could. It didn't work very well, but she made do, and smoothed her hair down.

There was a knock at the door.

"I'm sorry," Hermione began without looking up, shrugging her coat on. "My office hours are over. If you need anything—" Her words died on her tongue as she looked up.

James leaned against the door frame, no longer in uniform but in a pair of jeans that she liked perhaps _too _much. "I'm too late? I really need to make an appointment with Hermione Granger. Think you could fit me in?"

They'd talked about this, about her having him over her desk, but she'd never meant they would truly do it.

"I'm not sure." Hermione's voice cracked. "I'm an incredibly busy woman."

A smirk crossed his face as he stepped forward, and kicked the door shut behind him. She knew he'd already cast a locking charm. "Oh, I know, but I think you're just the woman to help me."

Playing along, Hermione ran her index finger along the calendar that was spread across her desk. She stiffened as he rounded her desk, and his chest pressed against her back. His hands settled on her hips. "I have an opening," she breathed.

"Now?" His breath fanned across her ear, and down her neck. James turned her, depositing her onto her desk while standing between her parted thighs.

It was still hardly believable they had ended up here.

Hermione lifted her head, fisting her hands in his shirt and hauling him closer. She wrapped her legs around his waist. "Not fake?" she whispered, lips curving into a smile at their inside joke.

He inched her blouse up and grinned wildly. "Definitely not fake."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop, that's a wrap. I'd love to read what you thought. See you on my next jamione sometime next year. (or for my next update if you read my other stuff.)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think. I've really enjoyed writing James, at least this rendition of him that I've made.


End file.
